


Daughter of Casterly Rock

by faerywhimsy (persephone20), persephone20



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Catelyn Tully Stark Lives, Eventual Ellaria Sand, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Friendship is Magic, Game of Thrones Fix-It, Happy Cersei Lannister, Jaime Lannister Has Issues, Jaime Lannister Needs a Hug, Ned Stark Lives, No Incest, Nobody is a Mad Queen, Oberyn Martell Flirts, Oberyn Martell Lives, POV Cersei Lannister, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tyrion Lannister is a Good Sibling, Tywin Lannister Being Tywin Lannister, Tywin Lannister's A+ Parenting, for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 36,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone20/pseuds/faerywhimsy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone20/pseuds/persephone20
Summary: Cersei Lannister has been bereft of a positive female influence in her life since her mother died when Cersei was a child. Struggling against a domineering father and a life she frankly didn't want, Cersei finally agreed to a loveless marriage with Robert Baratheon.Although Cersei has a soft heart on the inside, she is more than aware of the expectations placed on her as the Queen of Westeros. Thankfully, even though arranged, the marriage between Cersei and Robert finds its footing with a mutual respect and friendship towards each other born of the fact that neither of them seek a romantic love from the other over the pragmatism of what each of their houses can offer the other.Game of ThronesAU starting from Cersei and Robert's first visit to Winterfell in 9 years. Wherein Robert is not a dick and a drunk before he dies, and Cersei stops battling against every single strong woman who comes across her path.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister & Catelyn Tully Stark, Cersei Lannister/Ellaria Sand
Comments: 21
Kudos: 65





	1. Winter is Coming

**Author's Note:**

> What if Robert was a good man before he died?  
> What if Cersei wasn't so unhappily married to him?  
> What if Jamie was never quite the same after he slew a King he'd sworn an oath to?  
> What if Cersei was aromantic and not completely bereft of positive female figures?  
> What if *everyone* was kinda queer and got to figure it out along the way?
> 
> I have a lot of what-ifs. This is a queer!AU-verse starting from the time Robert-Cersei-and-entourage visit Winterfell in Season 1 of Game of Thrones (TV).

Cersei looked up towards the stone walls of Winterfell before her place in the royal procession. 

It had taken a month to get this far, to get to the northern most part of Westeros--and the coldest place she had ever been in her life--to the place where Robert was convinced was his staunched ally.

Some ally, if even Robert hadn't seen Ned Stark in 9 full years. 

Perhaps she wouldn't be feeling quite so uncharitable if not for the cold and distance travelled. Although she had travelled in a coach the whole way, it was still well below her expected accomodations. 

Robert had told her it would not be an easy journey to reach Winterfell, but she had sincerely underestimated his advice. 

_Hard_ did not quite seem to express the indignity of relieving oneself in the bushes multiple times a day while still being expected to maintain her Queenly presence. 

In another time, it would have been Jaime riding beside her, ensuring that her modesty was kept in check. But he hadn't quite been the same ever since he'd slain the king he made an oath to. Regardless that Robert had given him every honour for his service to the current reign, Cersei often felt she had lost her twin. 

Which left her with only one brother; the one she most vehemently did not want to be left with. 

Instead of her brother, her children rode with her. Tommen and Myrcella within the coach with her, but Joffrey was old enough now to take to his own horse and ride beside his father in the procession. It was the longest journey her eldest had taken on horseback, and Cersei had expected some pushback, some request to ride with his younger brother and sister. But he seemed to have flourished. 

Joffrey had a great deal of his grandfather in him. For every part of Cersei that loved her son and heir with all her heart, there was a part of her that wondered if perhaps there was _too_ much of Tywin. 

Now, however, they were within view of their destination. Cersei tried to remove the irritated scowl that she was certain resided on her face as they entered through the open gates. Ned Stark and his family were friends to Robert Baratheon, but Cersei had no understanding of what that meant to her. How would they greet her? As a stranger? As a friend? Would Ned's lady wife move to embrace Cersei upon greeting? 

Would she shun her?

The scowl moved towards a more pained expression at Cersei's anticipated rejection. 

She knew she had proven herself in her years of marriage to the people in King's Landing, but they were a long way from King's Landing now and Cersei didn't want to take anything for granted and misstep.

No, that would not do. 

Several deep breaths. She could hear conversation outside of her coach now. 

"Your Grace." An unfamiliar voice. Ned Stark, probably, the head of his household.

"You've got fat." Robert's more familiar, more jovial and relaxed tone of voice. Although a king, Robert had committed to being everyone's friend, never quite settling into the serious mien that Cersei knew from years of training at her father's feet was appropriate for the station. 

Right now, however, Cersei found that irreverence both reassuring and disarming. Perhaps that was why Robert held onto it. 

"Cat!" Robert cried out, and Cersei startled inside of the coach. Surely it was too cold up here for a cat to be wandering the yard. And why did Robert sound so excited about it?

Enough of this. She did not wait upon royal permission to leave her coach, sitting in here wondering what was going on out there. 

Lifting her skirts, and taking a deep breath to gather herself, Cersei stepped from the coach and into the courtyard of Winterfell.

It was... underwhelming. She'd seen sketches of the estate, of course, drawings that were kept in King's Landing. Somehow they'd made the residence seem almost romantic. The reality fell well short of that romance. 

The whole of the Stark house had come out into attendance to greet them, as was proper. For all the reassurance that she'd found in Robert's irreverence only a moment before, there was something calming in the site of what was appropriate being observed even in this far out wilderness. 

"My queen," Ned--the owner of the unfamiliar voice--spoke to her now, inclining his head to her as she approached to stand by her husband. 

The very edges of Cersei's lips curled up. Enough to be friendly without being seen as overly so.

And then her gaze turned towards Ned's lady wife. 

"My queen," she spoke, bending her knee in a curtsey. She was pretty, brown hair where Cersei's was blonde, and shrewd eyes that Cersei felt observing her reaction even as she lowered her gaze to the ground for a moment in deference. 

If this woman was capable of paying such attention, then she was one to watch in return.

The smile stayed firmly on Cersei's lips until Robert spoke again. 

"Take me to the crypt. I want to pay my respects."

Cersei took a breath. This, then, would be to Lyanna Stark, the woman Robert had loved before she died and he married Cersei. It wasn't just Ned Stark who was a staunch ally to Robert; it was the whole of his family, alive and dead.

Robert had not left Cersei to be surprised by this. It had been part of the same conversation where Robert had advised it would not be an easy journey to Winterfell. Yet, somehow, Cersei had not expected that this would be his immediate request upon arrival. 

She spoke up before she could stop herself, could consider that she was gainsaying the king. "We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait?"

Robert's attention turned from Ned to Cersei. It was as if he had forgotten her, as if being in this place had brought him to the past where Lyanna was alive all those years ago, and he hadn't yet met Cersei. 

And then he blinked, and her husband was back. He gave a small, rueful smile as he looked at her--as close as she could expect to an apology while they were here in the public eye, but it was enough--and nodded once. 

"As usual, my queen is right. I'm sure there are refreshments awaiting us inside?" The first part he said to Cersei, making it clear that he had meant her no disrespect as his queen. 

Cersei felt her breath come easier to her after that. 

"Of course," Ned said smoothly. He opened an arm, ushering Robert to walk with him as the two men led the way into Winterfell.


	2. Lady of Winterfell

There was to be a feast in honour of the royal family at Winterfell that night. 

Cersei examined herself in the glass in her room while she stayed here. There had been a bath drawn for her shortly after she'd excused herself to rest before the feast. She'd been glad of the privacy. During the month of travel, there had been precious little of it. 

Robert sauntered come back into their room after paying his respects to Ned's sister, and Cersei turned away from the glass. 

"How was it?" She asked in a quiet voice, appropriate for talking about the dead, without too much inflection to her voice before she knew what kind of mood her husband was in. 

Robert looked at her, then away again. His movements were stilted now that the door behind him was closed. "Sad," he said shortly. 

Cersei turned back towards the glass, not wanting to stare at him in his grief. 

"I'll be glad when we're away from here," he murmured. 

Cersei smiled to herself at that. It was an accurate echo of her own thoughts, though likely for very different reasons. She was already so cold--even after a bath as hot as she could make it--that she wondered if she would ever be warm again. "Be glad Ned didn't take the throne and leave you as _his_ Warden in the North." For _she_ certainly was. 

Although, had that been the case, perhaps her father would have married her to Ned, and Catelyn would have been Robert's wife. 

'Cat', Cersei had found out, was the name of Ned Stark’s lady wife. Catelyn Stark. Mother of Sansa, a pretty girl with bold red hair, and of an age of her own Joffrey. Robert had already made a comment about marrying the children of their respective families. For Cersei's part, she found herself jealous of the other mother; to have a daughter of an age where she could talk with her, brush each others hair, titter over court gossip together...

It would be several years before Cersei had that with Myrcella. Catelyn had been blessed with children faster than Cersei, with both Robb and Sansa already of marriageable age.

And, as if that wasn't enough, the other woman had opened her home up to two other children; Jon Snow, her husband's bastard, and Theon Greyjoy, a ward from a neighbouring house. Didn't Catelyn get tired of being so surrounded by other men, or was her daughter enough to make up for broader female company? 

"Bite your tongue," Robert said, but without heat. No more than some light amusement in any case. 

His words brought her out of her own thoughts and back to their conversation for a time. Her mild words had hit their mark, as she'd intended them to. The heaviness that had sat on his shoulders seemed lightened somehow as he sat on the bed they would share. 

"Will you soon be ready to go down?" Robert asked when she didn't immediately say anything else. 

It would be colder in the hall, Cersei knew. Each of the bedrooms in the keep had their own fireplace, as did the hall, but the hall was a much larger place. Cersei could only hope that the warmth of bodies would keep out the majority of the draughts, but what did she know really of such cold climates?

She was learning a lot about it today. 

But she had a responsibility while they were here, and it didn't include hiding away in her room. "Yes," she said, holding her arm out. Robert was a large man--ridiculous of _him_ to comment on Ned's weight, really--but in this case it would be useful. He held a lot more body heat than she. His escorting her to the main hall might do to mitigate some of the draughty halls on the way.

*

She couldn't take her eyes off Catelyn. Although still so rugged up that one couldn't see her shape even now that she was inside, the Lady of Winterfell captured and held attention as though it was she who commanded Winterfell. She listened keenly to the words of everyone who came to speak with her, paying them mind even when her husband was spending his attention elsewhere. She was gracious enough to drink the ale of the common people, but never drank enough that it changed the way she held herself. 

A few times, Catelyn gazed across at Cersei and smiled, but it was as though she was as unsure what to make of Cersei as Cersei was to make of her. 

The hall was as draughty as Cersei had worried about, but mead did warm her well from the inside. She probably drank more of it than Catelyn did, but Cersei was sure nobody drank as much this night as did her younger brother. 

Robert, meantime, spent as little time and attention on Cersei as Ned did on Catelyn. Cersei found she couldn't begrudge him for it, though. It had been 9 years since the two men had seen each other. Robert would need to make sure for himself that Ned was still the man he remembered him as, just as much as Ned would likely do the same before deciding whether or not he would accept the post as the King's Hand. 

Still, Robert's abandonment did leave Cersei with nobody to talk to. She wasn't well known like Catelyn. It wouldn't be seemly to talk to her children over the adults. And she refused to talk to her brother when he got like this. 

Largely, she preferred to talk to Tyrion very little at all. 

"Is this your first time in the North, Your Grace?"

Catelyn's words came from by Cersei's side, surprising her despite herself. How had Catelyn come to her without Cersei noticing? 

Again, close up, Cersei noticed the shrewdness in the way Catelyn gazed at her. "Do you know everyone in this hall?" Cersei asked, instead of answering Catelyn's question. She gazed away from the Lady of Winterfell, taking the moment to figure out the correct way for this interaction to go. This was the first time she'd had Catelyn's full attention on her but for that moment of greeting in the courtyard. There was no Robert or Ned to distract Catelyn now. 

Catelyn followed Cersei's gaze towards the rest of those gathered in the hall. "I know everyone," Catelyn replied after a moment, as if she'd needed to put eyes on every individual in the hall before making the pronouncement. "Families come to me everytime there is a new birth, or when children have been promised in marriage. I am part of all of their lives, as they are part of ours." Catelyn looked to Cersei again. "Is it not the same for you at King's Landing?"

The other lady had to know it most definitely was not. "There are far more people than here in King's Landing," Cersei answered curtly, not wanting to be shown up as being less of a queen than Catelyn was lady here. "It's impossible to keep up with all of them."

"I did not wish to offend," Catelyn said, showing that shrewdness Cersei had already observed in picking up the change in Cersei's tone of voice, even in the midst of all this din. 

Cersei shook her head. "Then I am not offended."

Catelyn inclined her own head, then returned to her previous topic of conversation. Something safer. "I'm sure it seems very grim, after King's Landing. I remember how scared I was when Ned brought me up here for the first time."

Scared? No, Cersei wasn't that. How could she be, when she was surrounded by her family and the entourage that had been with them all the way from King's Landing? Not to mention, nobody would dare take arms against her or any of her family while they were here, even if Ned's family wasn't so trusted by Robert. It would be signing a death sentence for any of them to try. 

"You are from a small family, then?" Cersei said, saying the only thing that made sense to her. 

Catelyn's mouth opened, but she didn't immediately say anything. It occurred to Cersei only then that her words might have been construed as rude to the other woman who did not yet know her. 

"Forgive me," she added. "Robert did tell me of your family's lines, but it has been a long month and, I admit, it has escaped my knowledge."

"Tully," Catelyn said, giving her family's name. "We may not be a large family, but we are a proud one. You may know my sister, she is Lady Lysa of The Eyrie"

"John Arryn's widow." Cersei put that together much faster. She had had numerous dealings with that woman over the years. Strange that Lysa and Catelyn were related. Cersei hadn't fancied she would get along with any of Lysa's kin.

"That's correct," Catelyn confirmed.

"Then your family has suffered a great loss in his death also," Cersei said. "Were you close to your brother in law?"

"As close as one could be," Catelyn answered, "with him stationed in King's Landing over the past 9 years."

"It was with great regret that we felt his passing," Cersei told her. "He was like family to Robert."

"And to you?" Catelyn asked, a slight raise to her eyebrow.

This time it was Cersei's turn to pause before speaking. She didn't want to lie to Catelyn Stark. "I regret I did not know him so well as Robert," she started. "But he kept him safe and was a great advisor to my husband. I treasured that." She stopped there, considering, then added, "It is my hope that Ned be able to fulfil the same station for my husband."

"Ned has not said yes to Robert's request as yet," Catelyn reminded.

"No," Cersei admitted. Then, "Do you think he will refuse him?"

Catelyn lifted her chin. Those eyes stared into Cersei once more, making Cersei feel the need to fuss with her hair, to rub her face, to make sure there was no blemish that Catelyn might see. It was a feeling she was most unused to, not since she had lived in her father's home. And yet, it was wholly different to the way she had felt under Tywin's scrutiny. She had often wished to avoid it when it was him. With Catelyn, she wanted to prove that she was worth the attention Catelyn paid her. 

A confusing thought, and one for later.

Unexpected sorrow passed over Catelyn's features. "I do not," she said heavily. 

Cersei bit her lower lip. It was not like her to be so unguarded in her own expression, but Catelyn's being so forthright brought out the same in her. "When he says yes," Cersei said slowly, "I will do my utmost to ensure he stays as safe as he can be."

Catelyn blinked. Clearly, those were not the words she had expected to hear Cersei say. She felt a small frisson of pride at having surprised Catelyn, hopefully for the better. 

"Do you mean it?" Catelyn asked. 

"I would not have said it if I did not," Cersei said. 

She watched as Catelyn took a long exhale that Cersei could almost hear above the noise around them. "I will hold you to that," she said only. It had the sound of a promise.

Cersei didn't know what possessed her, but the next words were out of her mouth before she could hold them back. "Then you shall also have to keep in touch after we take our leave from Winterfell."


	3. Northern hospitality

Cersei did not expect another private conversation with Catelyn so soon. But it didn't seem to matter what Cersei expected. 

Catelyn came directly to find Cersei in her chambers and knocked on the door even as Robert was still sitting on the bed and pulling on his boots. So it was Cersei who stepped forward to open the door. She couldn't help but compare to King's Landing that there would be a person to open the door for her, just as there probably was for Ned and Catelyn. 

"I'm sorry," Cersei said, as she caught sight of Catelyn on the other side of her door. "Was I expecting you?" She hadn't had so much to drink the night before that she would have forgotten such an arrangement, she was sure of it. 

Robert, sweet as he was, was also completely oblivious to the tension Catelyn brought with her. He stood up from the bed and put a large but gentle hand down on Cersei's shoulder. 

"I'll leave you two ladies to talk," he said easily enough, as he ambled out of their room in search of other company.

For a moment, Cersei and Catelyn just stared at each other silently. Since Cersei didn't know what had brought Catelyn here, she didn't have the slightest understanding of how to begin the conversation. Silence was often a stronger starting point, and Cersei certainly had no qualms taking it.

Catelyn's jaw tension was visible through the skin as she clenched and unclenched it, still not speaking. 

"Please, sit down," Cersei said, considering perhaps that the Lady of Winterfell wouldn't speak until a proper invitation had been observed. 

But Catelyn didn't sit. 

"I want to hear it from you," she said instead.

"Hear what?"

"What happened to John Arryn?"

Cersei's brow furrowed. "We spoke about this last night. "He died."

"And what suspect was put away for his death? What have you done in the wake of his death before coming up North to ask my husband to replace him?"

Catelyn was using the word 'death', but Cersei heard another one she wasn't saying, at least not out loud: Murder. 

"I promised you last night that I would ensure he stayed as safe as he could be."

"And what good is your promise?" Catelyn immediately demanded of her. 

Cersei felt as though the breath had been knocked right out of her. She'd heard rumours to this effect--of course she had--but she'd never thought they would reach so far as Winterfell. Now that they had at least reached as far as Catelyn, Cersei drew herself up tall in the face of the accusation. 

"Be very careful of what you say now, Catelyn Stark," Cersei said, her words slowing right down now that she knew completely what the other woman had come to discuss. 

Catelyn offered a smile that bared her teeth. "I'm in my own home, Cersei Lannister. Whatever power you have in King's Landing is not what you have here."

"Is it not?" Cersei raised both blonde eyebrows, feigning a dangerous ignorance. "Am I not Queen here in your home?"

Catelyn drew in a breath to speak again, then seemed to realise she had already gone too far. That, or similar thoughts, stayed her words. 

Nevertheless, Cersei pressed on. "Am I not Queen?" she demanded again. 

Cersei could see how Catelyn bit down on her tongue for a long moment before replying. "You are Queen," she said. And then, "My family has--!"

"Served our kingdom admirably," Cersei finished for her. For some reason, she didn't wish to have Catelyn say anything else that could tie her to treason. That wasn't the conversation she wanted to be having. But she could hardly choose against defending herself either. "And I can see that you are hesitant to see further loss come to your house of birth or marriage."

Again, a long pause from Catelyn. Again, Cersei allowed it to stand. 

"Your Grace is correct," Catelyn said finally. 

Cersei chose that moment to sit down, now that Catelyn wasn't spitting further and her words were out in the air between them. She affected an air of unconcern, though that was the last thing she felt. While looking at the shape of her nails on one hand, she spoke up to Catelyn, who stood before her. "I had heard rumours to the effect that the crown or--more particularly--the Lannisters had caused John Arryn harm before we left for Winterfell."

She glanced up at Catelyn then to see how the other woman took her words. Catelyn stared at her, all burgeoning trust from the night before gone now as though it had never been. Cersei took another breath. Plainly, Catelyn had nothing more to contribute. Luckily for her, Cersei had plenty. 

"I put it down to the gossip of those who didn't know better at the time. Perhaps I shouldn't have let it lie. However, as I said to you just last night, it's impossible to keep up with every individual in King's Landing given the population there." She held Catelyn's gaze for a long moment then, willing her to remember their conversation from the night before. Perhaps, if she could show consistency--perhaps if she could remind Catelyn of her willingness to trust Cersei just the night before--she could bring back those feelings again now. "Perhaps Robert and I decided it would prove a stronger use of our time to come immediately to Winterfell rather than wasting time silencing gossip that would die naturally on its own."

Now Catelyn looked at her as though Cersei had said something interesting. Maybe surprising. Her face was contorted with too much feeling still that Cersei couldn't quite read it. "Robert knew of these rumours?" she said. 

"Of course," Cersei answered. "They were brought first to his attention, then he brought them to me."

"And he... disregarded said rumours?" Catelyn asked, narrowing her eyes as she gazed down at Cersei.

Cersei wanted to think that Catelyn wanted to believe Cersei's words, even through the struggle. They hadn't known each other more than one day, after all. If Robert's feeling towards the rumours was the proof Catelyn needed to disregard them herself, then all to the better.

"You can ask him yourself, if you need to," was all Cersei said in reply. 

Catelyn took a long breath in and out. Then another. Then, finally, she took a seat on the chair Cersei had offered to her when first she came into the bedroom. 

"I believe I have made a grievous error," Catelyn said. When she looked at Cersei now, they were on an even eye height. 

Cersei said nothing. She had given her side of the story. There was nothing more to it now than to view Catelyn's response. 

Catelyn sighed out another breath. "You must think me beyond all rudeness," she murmured. It wasn't _exactly_ an apology, but Cersei hadn't asked for one. She accepted the humility it must have taken for Catelyn to say this much. Cersei could all too easily understand how difficult it would have been for her had their positions been reversed. 

"I think you very protective of your family," Cersei said. 

"Yes." Catelyn nodded. "That I am."

Cersei pressed her lips together, glad that Robert had left the two of them alone to talk for as long as they needed to take. Tommen and Myrcella would be too busy exploring to come looking for her, and Catelyn's own children no doubt had little idea their mother was here in Cersei's rooms. 

"That is a good thing, I think," Cersei decided. "Especially given I hear we are to share a grandchild someday."

"I hear that too," Catelyn said, softening still more in the chair she had taken up, yet there was still something tense in her, something that worried her that hadn't been there the night before. 

Cersei attempted to ease that with her words. "It is difficult to be a woman, even a powerful one, in a world of men."

Catelyn met her gaze again. "Aye," she said, "that it is."

Cersei held Catelyn's gaze for several moments, before saying, "I suspect you and I have more in common than we have otherwise. I would be happy to see our two houses come together as one."

Even despite her words, Cersei still felt Catelyn holding herself apart in this conversation. What she couldn't tell was whether it was latent disbelief in the version of events Cersei had shared, or something else. She hoped it was not that. From what she'd seen of Catelyn so far, the woman was very honest. She didn't like to think of that honesty being turned towards subterfuge or anything else that might make it necessary for Cersei to need to watch her back so far from her home. 

"Catelyn," Cersei said, "I want to thank you for coming to me with this. You did not have to do that."

Catelyn's lips parted and she turned her head to the side. "Your Grace is very kind. But I... I could have come to you in a more gracious manner."

Cersei waved her hand between them in the face of that nonsense. "You're from the North," she told the other woman. "Perhaps you don't understand what a gift it is to have someone speak to your face the worries they have behind your back."

At that, Catelyn pursed her lips. "Perhaps I don't understand that," she conceded. "In that case, I am glad to have offered Northern hospitality to Your Grace in this instance." 

And, finally, Cersei could see the very hint of a smile curving around Catelyn's features. 'Northern hospitality' indeed. Even Cersei couldn't help a short smirk at the idea, and at the words. 

"Perhaps just a _little_ less such hospitality next time," Cersei suggested, and Catelyn inclined her head.

"I think we can both agree on that," Catelyn offered with a little laugh.


	4. An 'Incident' between Joffrey and Arya

Cersei was back in King’s Landing only a few days before Catelyn’s first letter reached her. 

_Dear Cersei,_

_I miss my girls already. I imagine I barely need to say that, much less open a letter with these words. As a mother yourself, I assume the thought is never far from your mind on how different life will seem after Myrcella goes to marry._

_I thought I would have longer with Arya._

_I know Sansa and Arya will be treated very well, and seeing a great deal more of the world than I had hoped to at their ages. But, just, Winterfell seems so much quieter without them._

Cersei smiled sadly as she remembered what she had said to Catelyn about there being more in common between them than there was otherwise. She should have been spending more time with Sansa. Of course, she had offered her coach to both Sansa and Arya on the ride back from Winterfell. Arya hadn’t been interested in anything but riding directly beside her father, a rather silly looking small sword at her belt. 

Sansa had been more interested in what Joffrey had to say than anything Cersei might say or think. 

_I know you will have only just returned to King’s Landing, but I couldn’t keep myself from writing any longer. For you, there has been a month of travelling. I can only imagine how happy you must be to be home, and how long ago it must seem was your visit to Winterfell._

It had been a long trek home, made shorter only by the warmer weather coming up to meet them about two weeks down the King’s Road. 

_I think often of the conversations we had while you were in the hospitality of our home. You may not know this, but I didn’t get along very well with my sister. With Lysa. The two of us are, and have always been, very different people. Though both of us are prone to great outbursts of emotion, I like to think that once a point has been made to me, I settle into sense. Sometimes I wonder if the same was ever true of Lysa._

Cersei had wondered at the great difference between Catelyn and Lysa having met them each in person. This, however, made a great deal more sense. Siblings could often be quite different to one another. Taking a look between Cersei and Tyrion was quite a good example of that. 

It had been strange, in its own way, not returning to King’s Landing with him. He had made the decision to head up to the Wall with Jon Snow. That was likely another reason for the quietness of Winterfell. Jon, Sansa, Arya and Ned had all left rather at once, along with the royal procession. 

Cersei folded the pages and held them to her chest for a moment, wanting to hold close the feeling of friendship that the carefully penned words left within her. She had numerous things that required her attention today, and this had been an unplanned and unscheduled missive. But if she didn’t have enough time at present to write a reply, the last she could do was hold onto these a moment. The rest of her afternoon could wait just that long. 

*

_Dear Catelyn,_

_I was most happy to receive your letter. You need not worry about there being so little time between my arrival home and your letter. Truthfully, it is a lovely thing to know that I have stayed in your thoughts this past month._

_I understand very much being grateful for those relationships with like minded people, rather than those with whom we do not get along with. You may not know this, but I grew up as the only daughter in Casterly Rock. My mother died when I was very young. In child’s birth. With Tyron. As a result, there were very few I could relate to as a young woman. Even fewer after I began to bleed. For many years, my closest confidant was my brother, Jaime._

_That seems like a very long time ago now. It’s like the sight of me as queen brings pain to him now. Not because of his own ambition, though he used to have plenty of that. No, I fear that my position as queen now only reminds him of the oath he broke to the Aerys Targaryen in killing him in the rebellion._

Since the beginning of Robert and Cersei’s reign, Jaime had hardly been able to bring himself to look at her, much less touch or hold her when she had need of her closest familial connection. 

Cersei licked her lips, then lifted a hand to wipe a stray tear that sought its way to the parchment. She could not have that, not least because it might render the words unreadable. But tear stained letters were not a thing she believed was yet part of the friendship she was starting with Catelyn, if ever they would be.

Time for a different subject. And to mention what occurred today.

_I can honestly say, again, that I enjoyed our conversations (for the most part) and the refreshing honesty you gave to our every interaction._

_In that same vein now, I must report to you an incident that occurred between Joffrey and Arya._

Cersei paused again in her writing. Was ‘incident’ the correct word to use here? It wasn’t something she wanted to do, worrying Catelyn, when she was so far away. 

She wrote the details of the event in mind of reassuring a mother who was separated from her youngest daughter, that another mother—who Catelyn herself had said understood—was there and able to watch over the child. 

There had been an altercation between Joffrey, Arya and a butcher’s boy. Ned had been quite concerned. In fact, she might expect a letter from her husband on the same event. But Cersei’s letter arrived only to reassure Catelyn that everyone was all right. That children were children, as Robert had pointed out. 

Even as she wrote the words, there was a query in her mind. Not about Arya, of course. Though she did seem a strange one, it wasn’t Arya who concerned Cersei. Joffrey, rather, had been foaming at the mouth, screaming injustices. Even had Arya somehow managed to hurt him before throwing his sword into the river--unpleasant to be sure--it had nothing on seeing such a total loss of control from the boy who would one day be King of Westeros.

Even Robert had struggled to control him in the moment. Joffrey wasn’t yet quite the height of his father, and Robert was certainly wider, but he wasn’t certainly full grown yet. Nor in his full power.

She needed to speak with her son, try to understand whatever it was behind his anger, coming out more and more of late.


	5. The Friendship Between Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei was beginning to realise the friendship between women could be quite different between that of arranged marriage partners.

“My dear, you were very brave.”

Joffrey pouted, glared and shook his head forcefully all at the same time. “I wasn’t brave. I was bitten and all I did was scream. And the two Stark girls saw it, both of them.”

Cersei reached forward to touch his hair, and he sat back sharply, away from that touch. Cersei only barely managed to hold back a sigh. 

“Is that what bothers you, then?” she asked. “Your pride?”

Joffrey shook his head violently. “It’s not about pride,” he said stubbornly. “It’s about power.”

To that, Cersei’s eyebrows rose. “As a prince of Westeros, you certainly don’t lack of power, my son.”

“You don’t understand,” Joffrey told her, standing up suddenly and striding across the room. “Nobody understands me,” he announced, slashing his hand across his front in emphasis. 

Cersei refused to move from her chaise and follow him. “Then explain it to me,” she said instead. “I want to understand you.”

Joffrey’s lower lip jutted out, reminding Cersei again just how young her son was. Heir, or not. 

“I’m not like Robert. I didn’t stand and fight.”

“Given you were facing down two young noblewomen, I’m glad to hear that,” Cersei murmured. 

“And that butcher’s boy!” Joffrey growled. 

Cersei tipped her head to the side, trying to see her son through his fury. “Is that what you’re worried about? The opinion of a dead butcher boy?”

Joffrey opened his mouth then seemed to hear how silly his own words had been. 

Cersei leaned forward towards him, hoping to press whatever advantage she had and get him to listen to her. “Robert didn’t become a warrior overnight, my love. He spent years training, and fighting, to gain the skills you’ve seen in your life. Long before you were born. Do you understand that?”

Joffrey said nothing, but his head gave a jerky nod. 

“We can get you lessons,” Cersei continued. “The very best. But you can’t lose your temper every time it’s difficult. Do you understand me now? If you have lessons like an adult, I want you to act like an adult.”

Joffrey stared down at his mother. 

Cersei stared straight on back. Her back was stiffer than his. She had more practice at it. 

And, finally, Joffrey was the one to look away first. “Fine. That’s fine, I guess.”

“Good,” Cersei said, with every hope that having a more physical activity to vent his feelings into would be good for her young prince. 

*

It was scarcely more than a month after the royal procession returned to King’s Landing that Catelyn herself appeared there. She must have left as soon as Cersei’s letter had arrived in Winterfell. 

Clearly, she was not so accomplished a letter writer as she had hoped herself to be if she had worried Catelyn so greatly. 

The news came to Cersei via Varys, who then went into an acknowledgement about his ‘little birds’ which Cersei tuned out of well before the point where she could reasonably exit the conversation.

It wasn’t as though she could simply walk into Littlefinger’s establishment. No. But, for once, it seemed that her little brother’s tendency towards whoring might come in useful. 

“Let me get this straight,” he said to her slowly, after she found him drinking in the courtyard with a woman on each arm. She dismissed them both quickly, and they didn’t give another glance to Tyrion before hurrying off at the queen’s command. “You wish me to leave the whores I’m currently dallying with for whores in Littlefinger’s establishment.”

“It is where Catelyn Stark is currently residing,” Cersei told him impatiently. “I told you this already.”

“You did,” Tyrion agreed in his low voice. As edgy as Cersei felt, Tyrion couldn’t have appeared more relaxed as he gazed off to a space beyond her shoulder. “What you haven’t told me, however, is why the lady to our Hand of the King is residing in a whoring establishment instead of cozied up in Winterfell.”

His tone of voice fell into place for her, and Cersei’s face fell. “You don’t believe me.”

Tyrion spread his hands. “You have to admit, you’ve given me more than reason to believe I would be walking into some form of trap.”

Now Cersei gazed at him with the irritation that was more common of their interactions. “What kind of trap would there be in Petyr Baelish’s establishment of disrepute?”

“A very good question.” Tyrion saluted her with his goblet, before finishing the drink. “And one I am still seeking the answer to.”

“There is no trap,” Cersei said on a tired sigh. “Catelyn is my _friend_. I want her out of that establishment and in the palace.”

“Which I’m sure her lord husband has not already organised himself.” Tyrion raised an eyebrow on his misshapen face.

“Ned Stark is busy with affairs of state. He may not have been told yet of Catelyn’s arrival.” They were going around in circles. Cersei was dangerously close to storming into the whorehouse herself. Or having Ser Gregor Clegane do so for her, which would be tantamount to the same thing. 

Cersei forced herself to take a slow breath in and out. Part of the reason Tyrion was likely drawing this out was the urgency she had given to it. 

“Very well,” she said, deliberately letting terseness into her tone. “I shall remember this refusal to accept even a simple request from your queen.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to go getting spiteful,” Tyrion said, immediately sounding far more reasonable than even a moment before. “It’s not uncommon for me to be sited at Baelish’s establishment. Should I see your Lady Stark, I will summon her to attend your presence immediately. Will that satisfy Your Grace?”

There was a definitely ironic expression on her brother’s face as he used her official title as royalty. But, given he’d finally agreed to do as she asked, she refused to let it bother her. This time. 

“Yes, Tyrion,” she told him. “That will satisfy.” And without any further words between them, she turned on her heel and removed herself from his company. 

*

“Does _everyone_ know I came to King’s Landing?” 

Catelyn arrived to Cersei’s rooms within the palace with a huff of her breath and a quick reshuffling of her skirts. There was fire in her tone, but the echo of it in her gaze faded as she met Cersei’s eyes. 

Instead, she just pursed her lips and shook her head. “9 years ago, I came to the capital with no one being the wiser.”

“Robert and I were much newer to the throne 9 years ago,” Cersei said. 

“Or perhaps I’ve grown less subtle in my older years,” Catelyn grumbled, seemingly to herself. 

Cersei chose not to give that any heed. Instead, she walked towards Lady Stark and reached out to take both of Catelyn’s hands in hers. “It is good to see you again.” Only two months had passed since her leaving Winterfell, but it had been two months with only one letter sent each between them and no other with whom Cersei felt this friendship. 

Oh, there was Robert, but as Cersei had said to Tyrion, he and Ned were constantly in each others’ pockets now. And, Cersei was beginning to realise, the friendship between women could be quite different between that of arranged marriage partners. 

Catelyn’s fingers tightened around Cersei’s before letting go. 

“I will admit,” Catelyn said, in her slightly husky voice, “that it is a kindness to be spared the four walls of Paetyr’s establishment in favour of a palace. And my daughters—”

“I have sent for them,” Cersei finished for her. “As well as a note to my husband advising your husband of your presence.”

Catelyn offered a small smile to that. “It seems there is little left for me to do but wait.”

A knock on the door, and Catelyn turned around swiftly but it was only a servant bringing wine and refreshments enough for their small group. 

“I’m sorry,” Catelyn said, as wine was poured for them both. “You shared very personal information in your last letter, and I realise now I did not reply as I should have before embarking on this journey.”

Cersei’s lips parted in a smile as the serving person retreated from their presence. “I had hoped not to worry you with my news, so I realise now I did not do as I hoped either.”

“Perhaps an overprotective mother used your letter as an excuse,” Catelyn said with a small smile of her own. “But I am sorry you have gone so long without the closeness you once had with Jaime. Lysa and I were never close, but it was strange not to see her everyday. I cannot imagine how it would be to go from being so close to no relationship at all.” Catelyn sipped her wine. “I suppose you don’t have a good relationship with…”

“The brother whose life ended my mother’s?” Cersei shook her head. “That isn’t fair. I know. I treated him poorly for so many because of childish hurt… I’m afraid our interactions now are based on the habit of too many years to change now.”

Catelyn looked sorrowful at this admission. 

The door to Cersei’s receiving room opened again, this time without a knock. 

Joffrey strode in with all the confidence of his youth. Behind him, walked Sansa, her bright hair quiet hope all but unmistakable. Her gaze landed on Cersei first, then moved towards her lady mother.

“Mother!” she exclaimed, before rushing past Joffrey to greet Catelyn in a tight standing hug. “I did not know you would be arriving!” She looked between Cersei and Catelyn in some confusion. 

“It was very last minute,” Catelyn said, her face almost splitting from the size of her grin. “And your sister? Arya? Where is she?” Holding Sansa close, Catelyn looked towards the doorway as though Arya would be close behind. 

Sansa pulled a face. Cersei noticed a similar expression overtake Joffrey’s face at Arya’s name. 

“Likely training with the Braavos Swordsmaster that Father found for her,” Sansa answered, surprising all in the room. 

And that, of course, was when Ned Stark entered the room, to weather the shock of everyone there.


	6. "Make him better than me"

When Robert announced the hunt that he, his brother Renly, and a chosen few others would be going away on, Catelyn pleasantly surprised Cersei by making the decision to stay in King’s Landing a little longer. 

“I’m not ready to leave just yet,” she told Cersei. “And, besides, a raven came just this morning from home. Robb is managing well enough on his own. It is good practice for his future.”

With that, Cersei couldn’t disagree. 

For her part, she’d been watching Joffrey’s swords lessons carefully, from a distance. She’d hired an instructor that she could trust to report accurately and often to her about her son’s mood and aptitude. So far, there was little positive change in general, but he was having fewer tantrums and gradually learning more skill within the times of his lessons. 

“It’s important our sons learn early the responsibilities that they will have later in life,” she told Catelyn.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Catelyn decided over wine. 

Cersei found she was growing to enjoy these moments of agreement between the two of them more and more. 

And so it was that, when news of Robert’s injury and death came to Cersei, Catelyn was still in King’s Landing. 

In the aftermath, Myrcella wept into her skirts until Sansa—sweet girl—brought her away with promises of sweet cakes to distract her with. Tommen attempted to be brave, asking his mother if she needed anything.

Of Joffrey, there was nothing to be seen, not since Robert had told him he should have spent more time with him. Regrets like that shouldn’t only be for the death bed. Cersei didn’t know what to say to him now. And she was the only parent Joffrey had left.

She remembered the stricken look on Joffrey’s face; she didn’t think she would ever forget it. Joff had never experienced loss before. His whole life, every small whim he could have wanted, Cersei had made sure was delivered to him. Nothing was too small for her prince. 

As a result, nothing could have prepared him for this. 

She felt like she should have done better.

Neither Tommen nor Myrcella had been there to see their father that one last time. They were both too young, and Cersei wanted to shield them from that much at least. As Robert lay dying in his bed, his last words said only to her and to Ned, Cersei wanted to cling to him, wanted to cry in his arms and feel him hold her as he had in the nights after she lost their baby. This was the kind of grief only he could save her from, and yet he was the cause of it. 

It surprised Cersei, the depth of her feeling at Robert’s sudden passing. She had not loved him, not in the way that little girls in stories loved their princes and heroes. Not in the way that she saw Sansa loved her son. 

But perhaps she had loved him in her own way. What a time to figure that out. Now, when she would never be able to tell him that someone other than Lyanne had loved him for exactly who he was. 

She might have liked to hear from him that he loved her too, in the way they only did with each other. Remembering that last tortured expression to his eye before he left her--alone but for Ned--she could all too easily believe it. 

Cersei had no idea how it was Catelyn came to her side. She had not called for her, not summoned her, not even had any inkling of having the other woman by her side. 

And yet, there she was. Hovering, with dark, thick brandy. 

Cersei fell to her knees before her, sobs pushing out of her mouth in a way that hadn’t since Robert’s last breaths. For everyone else, she was still Queen of Westeros. They would look to her now, in the aftermath of this tragedy. Her, and Joffrey. She couldn’t be weak. It was a luxury that could not be afforded. 

But in this room, she wasn’t Queen. She was Cat’s friend. 

And Cat’s arms came around her then. She didn’t shush her or try to stop the tears that flowed. Her arms were heavy and warm around her shoulders, hands pressing hard against her back. Cersei could smell the scent of her recently washed hair and took comfort in that feminine scent. 

That she was able to take comfort now, of all times, only made her cry the more. 

When she had no tears left, she straightened herself, pressed her hands to Catelyn’s arms in thanks, and retired to a seat by the window. She could hardly see anything through the puffed up skin around her eyes, but that didn’t matter. 

“You’re in shock,” Catelyn told her, sounding as though she was talking from very far away. “Here, a drink of this will help.”

Vaguely, Cersei was aware of Ned standing by the doorway, his two arms crossed over his broad chest, saying nothing. 

And the last words Robert had said to Ned came to her again. _My son… Help him, Ned. Make him better than me._

Another tear sunk down her cheek. So, she was not cried out after all. Cersei drank because it was what she’d been told to do, and it didn’t occur to her to say anything else.


	7. Garden of Bones

Joffrey's sword lessons continued, or so Cersei assumed. She hadn't continued to oversee that herself, not since Robert's death. She spent long days alone in her bed since the shock of Robert's sudden passing and Catelyn's last visit. She saw no one but the servants who brought her food. Her guards had been given standing orders to turn all else away in this time of her grieving. Her only view was that out of her window. As she stared, she considered that Robert would never again see this view. His eyes had been shut forever. 

There were things to organise, she knew. A burial to be made. But surely Ned Stark could manage all of that in her absence, Cersei supposed. She didn't wish to look at her late husband again, for the last memory she had of him to be one with stones set over his eyes. 

She didn't want the memories she had of him already to be the last ones left. 

Catelyn would have requested to see her again. She had, after all, made the trip south to see Cersei, and had stayed longer in support of her. But Cersei didn't see how she could accept support. The father of her children was dead. Dead. The crown of the Seven Kingdoms rested on her son's head, _years_ too early. And she was not doing a good job of leading him.

He was young. Too young for all the responsibilities that would rest upon his soft head. He was innocent in the ways the world truly worked. It was an innocence he should have been able to keep for at least a few years longer. 

Robert should have been here to properly train him in the ways that a king should be. That was how Cersei had always imagined it would go. 

Maybe that was why she did not lead him now. 

She did not know how.

A letter came from her bedroom on the third day of her bed rest. Lord Tywin, her father and Lord of Casterly Rock, came to King's Landing. It was not an expected trip. He did not say that he came to see his only daughter after the death of her husband. No, Lord Tywin would never say something so allowing of the emotion that clouded Cersei's mind. It would not be born. 

Cersei knew she had less than the time it took for her father to arrive to pull herself out of her bed. It would not be tolerated any longer than that. 

And yet, Cersei couldn't seem to force herself to care. 

On the day after the letter, Catelyn finally pushed herself into Cersei's bed chamber, despite the guards' standing orders. The unexpected commotion outside of her door was followed by Catelyn's pushing her whole body into the door and opening it. She knew the guards well enough that they would not manhandle a lady who was determined to enter. 

Cersei sat straighter against her headboard. 

But Catelyn didn't look at her immediately. She crossed the room, opening the curtains as far as they would go, like the light and view coming in already wasn't nearly enough. Then she came to the bed, removing the bed covers and leaving Cersei clad in only a sheet and her own bed clothes. 

"What is this about?!" Cersei demanded, unable to hold back on the affront being dealt her. 

Catelyn only raised dark eyebrows as she stared down at the Queen of Westeros. 

"It is good to see you still have a tongue to speak," was all she spoke. 

Cersei blinked, appalled at these words from her dearest friend. That anyone could speak to her like this at all...!

"You dare...!" Cersei began. 

"I dare because no one else will." Catelyn stood tall at the base of Cersei's bed, her hands high on her hips and her stare unfailing. It was the gaze of a woman who had kept 4 natural children, a bastard and a fosterling in line all these years. "It is beyond time that these sheets be taken to the laundry women. And high time that your face be seen outside the walls of this room!"

Cersei shook her head, half in disbelief at the words coming from Catelyn's mouth, and half at the idea of being seen in this state by members of the court! 

"I could call the guards in here and they would remove you," Cersei said, not really meaning it, but wanting to see what Catelyn would do at the threat. 

"You could," Catelyn agreed. "I'm sure they would even obey the command. But it wouldn't change the fact that you are needed outside this room." Catelyn's glare could have slayed Cersei with all the judgement it held. "Your son needs you. Your _people_ need you. I am sorry to inform you that the world does not _stop_ because your loved one has died."

"I did not love Robert," Cersei reminded her, the words by now coming out as rote. "It was an arranged marriage."

"Then you have even less reason to stew in this misery." Catelyn came around the side of the bed, finally come to sit down and taking one of Cersei's hands in hers gently. Finally, her voice began to soften. "It is a great blow that Robert has died. He was a friend to the Starks. My Ned is beside himself with upset. But it does not interfere with his duty as Hand to the new King."

Cersei's gaze dipped to the hand Catelyn held. She took a breath in, holding it briefly before letting it out. The message was clear: The Hand of the King was managing to stand by Joffrey's side. His mother should be able to do the same thing. 

_My son… Help him, Ned. Make him better than me._

Cersei closed her eyes, shame seeping into her despite her best efforts to hold strong against it. Her husband hadn't even given to her that final request. She was merely a grieving widow. She deserved this time in her despair. 

But those words did not conjure up the same amount of entitlement that she had been hiding behind these last four days. 

At her side, Catelyn waited patiently for her to admit as much. 

"My father..." Cersei started, not able to meet Catelyn's gaze as the words she had not been able to parse from yesterday's letter come out of her lips at once. "He is naming himself the Hand of the King."

"He cannot!" Catelyn's voice held all the shock that Cersei was sure she'd find in the other woman's face had she been looking. "It is not something that can be named by anyone other than the King!"

Cersei sighed a breath out, admitting to things that had remained in tight confidence over the past years of Robert Baratheon's reign. "We are in great debt to the Lannister fortune. It is just not possible to turn Tywin away at this time."

There was a pause, and Cersei found she had to look towards Catelyn to see her reaction. She could not stand not knowing even for those short seconds. 

Finally, after swallowing, Catelyn said, "You are Tywin Lannister's daughter. Surely some of that coin rightly belongs to you."

"Not while Tywin lives," Cersei said simply. 

The two women sat alone in silence for a time.

"When does he arrive?" Catelyn asked eventually. 

"He has already left Casterly Rock," Cersei revealed quietly. 

Catelyn looked back at Cersei, dread clear now in her expression. "And what does he intend to do with Ned?"


	8. Walk of Punishment

Cersei left the palace with only Catelyn by her side and Lancel Lannister as the single guard. There was nothing in the city for her to be afraid of, but it was foolish for two women alone to travel within King's Landing. Even if one of those women was still Queen of Westeros. 

Perhaps especially _because_ of that.

Ned was elsewhere when Catelyn sought to ensure this was the course of action Cersei wanted to take. 

"You said yourself that you are not so close as you used to be. You cannot know for certain how he will receive you."

"I need to try," Cersei reminded her adamantly. "And I do not stand any better chance of unifying against Tywin with _Tyrion_."

At that, Catelyn paused. "Perhaps, if someone else were to go to Tyrion, convincing him would stand a better chance?"

Cersei inclined her head, admitting that she did not know for certain that would be a lost cause. "I still stand a better chance with Jaime. If you do not wish to accompany me, I will not make you."

Of course, there was no way that Catelyn would let Cersei go unaccompanied. Which Cersei well knew. 

And so the two women strode towards the estate in which Jaime lived.

He couldn't, he'd once told Cersei, live within the palace walls of the king he had betrayed. It didn't matter that it was for the greater good, that the king had been mad, that he'd done what was needed by his family. A Lannister paid their debts. To Jaime, that had been to cut off the very hand that had wielded the sword ending the Mad King's life. No one had been able to stop him; no one had known it was a thought that could cross Jaime Lannister's mind. 

"No more am I the Kingslayer," Jaime had told Cersei in the only conversation the two of them had ever had about it. He could not fight with his left hand, and had not picked up a sword since that day. 

But an additional debt continued to be required by Jaime Lanniester--according to himself--and that was deep reflection on his actions. And to never cross into the castle without thinking of exactly what he had done. 

Cersei could no longer remember clearly the last time Jaime had set foot into the castle.

Lancel was the one who lifted his fist to knock on the door. Jaime may not live in the palace with the rest of them, but Cersei and Tyrion both had been determined that his quarters would be as lavish as Jaime would accept. In addition to the golden hand that had been given for the unsightly stump where Jaime's hand had once been, he was also granted a butler for the estate, because at the very least it would be quite unseemly for the brother of the queen to open his own door. 

The three of them waited--Catelyn far less patient than Cersei--for that door to open, upon which time they were led to where Jaime was elbow deep in dirt, planting something in his courtyard.

He looked up at them as the butler announced them. A strand of long, golden hair flopped over the front of his face. Both cheeks were smudged. Cersei sighed out quietly, barely able to look at this version of her twin brother. 

"I was not expecting you," Jaime said mildly, his gaze flickering from Cersei to Catelyn and back again. To Lancel, he gave no acknowledgement at all. 

"I need to speak with you," Cersei said quietly, taking one step forward towards him and away from Catelyn. 

Jaime nodded once as though he already knew what was coming. "You need something from me," he said. 

Cersei's lips parted, but nothing immediately came to her lips, either to support or deny his statement. 

Thankfully, there was Catelyn, only half a step behind her, and privy to all that Cersei had come to say. "Your father is coming to King's Landing."

Jaime's gaze startled across to Catelyn, whether because she'd spoken or because of his father's name, Cersei could not be certain. But she was content to watch--for now--as Catelyn took the lead so that Cersei could watch her brother for any tells that might be useful to note.

"He's claiming the title of Hand of the King," Catelyn went on. Her voice was completely neutral, almost as though her own husband wasn't already the one who claimed that mantel. 

Jaime's head dropped down, looking towards the dirt that he'd been so busy with before their arrival. "Is he now." From what Cersei could see, he didn't seem all that interested in what they had come to share. But then his eyes narrowed, and he pinned Catelyn with a look. "I can see how that would be troubling, seeing as how it's your husband who currently holds that title."

"It is troubling indeed," Catelyn replied, her voice like granite. But Cersei noticed something much more interesting. 

"You've been keeping abreast of politics despite..." Cersei looked at the courtyard around her. She would not verbally insult her brother, but one could say that this pause was neatly filled by all the words she did not say. 

"Yes," Jaime said tersely.

Cersei waited to see if he would say anything further, but he didn't. Refusing to be put off, Cersei took another two steps towards her brother. "I cannot stand against our father on my own."

"Then convince Tyrion to stand with you." Jaime followed this with a bitter laugh that might have made Cersei cringe if she'd been willing to show any side of softness to an outsider. And that was what her brother had become, she realised here. He was no longer her twin. This was the man who had replaced her nearest confidant of childhood. Another casualty of the Mad King. "Oh wait, that probably won't work either."

"Excuse yourself," Catelyn said, sudden and coldly. "You are speaking to the Queen of Westeros."

Cersei may not have been the sort to reveal any outward emotion to outsiders, but Catelyn did not show the same restraint. Her fierceness was once more on her face, without any show of fear for what consequences might come. To Cersei, she looked every inch of the Lady of one of the larger houses within Westeros. A lady possessing of power and might such as Cersei had always demanded for herself. In this moment, watching that power directed towards someone else, Cersei could only watch on. 

Even Jaime appeared to wilt under the weight of it. His jaw tightened beneath skin and stubble. Cersei wondered how long it had been since the last time he had washed his hair, or allowed someone else to do it. It was one of many tasks that were likely made that much harder from the loss of a hand. It also likely explained how he'd managed to get so much dirt all over his face with such a simple task like planting. 

"Queen, but also my sister," Jaime murmured eventually, lifting his golden hand to brush hair away from his forehead, and leaving an additional smudge of dirt there in the process. 

"So even more deserving of your respect." Catelyn stared him down with narrowed eyes, unwilling or perhaps even unable to let slide this wilful disrespect towards family. Perhaps, Cersei thought, if Catelyn were to speak with Tyrion, he also could be relied upon. Cersei knew that her younger brother held no more love towards their father than he did towards Cersei herself. 

To this, Jaime had no easy rebuttal. Instead, he retreated back to their earlier point of conversation. "I hardly see why Tywin would listen to me now."

"Self pity never helped anyone get anywhere," Catelyn said stoutly, not even allowing him this small retreat. 

"What do you want from me?" Jaime burst out, evidently tired from being pushed back into a corner. 

Catelyn looked back to Cersei. The two of them were of one mind; it was appropriate that Cersei should air her own demands. "When Tywin arrives at King's Landing, he will no doubt reach out to you for your support. Regardless of your hiding out here for the past 9 years, your presence still holds sway with the men you trained, and those you trained alongside. You are a legend to many from Casterly Rock. Swear to me hat Tywin won't be able to use you to increase his power here."

Jaime stayed silent for a long time after Cersei listed her demands. And then with a growl, already half turning away, he said, "Fine. Now leave me in peace."

Cersei opened her mouth to say something further, without knowing quite what she would say. Even seeing the differences in him today--like each infrequent time she visited--something in her still reached out to him as the twin she had grown up with. It was difficult to part with such words between them. So difficult to part knowing that things would never be the same. That, for all the power she had in this life, she did not have any power over that. 

And so, "Come on," Catelyn said to her quietly and, when Cersei looked, she could see Lancel looking at her too. Waiting on what her response would be. 

A part of her didn't wish to leave simply because Jaime had dismissed her. But there was nothing still remaining for her to do. She had gained the promise that she had come here for. And it was quite clear that Jaime had nothing more of civility to say to any of them. Best to leave now before even more of a spectacle could be made. 

Biting back on a sigh, Cersei nodded her head briefly to Catelyn, before leading the three of them back through Jaime's house and back out onto the street.

"He has been sighted at Blackwater Bay."

The news of Tywin's arrival came to the throne room, directly to Joffrey. Cersei sat on a lower seat to his right. Ned, hand on his sword's pommel, stood in place to the king's right. 

Catelyn was amongst the rest of the nobles. They had been awaiting this sighting. In view of no further correspondence between Cersei and her father, the three of them had decided--without consulting Joffrey--that they would wait for Tywin to make the first move. Only then would they act. 

There could be no gain in beginning a civil dispute if it could have been avoided. 

It was not long before the man himself appeared within the throne room. He rode in on the back of a white horse, not caring how much space he took up, and likely believing with every part of him that he deserved the attention he forced from everyone in the room. Joffrey spoke up, as Cersei had instructed him to do, taking command of the situation as best he could. But he was a child still. Tywin Lannister was a man. It had been foolish to hope that anything Joffrey might do in performance against his grandfather had been doomed to fail.

She glanced across at where Ned Stark stood, and caught his eye briefly before returning her attention to her father, and her son.

"... Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby receive my grandfather, Tywin Lannister."

"Thank you, your Grace," Tywin answered mildly. After a very slight incline of the head to the throne on which Joffrey sat, Cersei watched Tywin's gaze move across the throne room. His gaze took in every individual who was there... and also those who weren't. "What of Jaime?" Tywin asked. "Where is he?" 

Cersei lifted her chin and spoke before Joffrey managed to get there first. "I'm afraid he is indisposed at present," she said, emulating every bit of mildness in tone of voice as she responded. His careful lack of outward emotion was where she had learned it herself, after all. All those years when the only thing in her mind had been to please him. 

All those wasted years. 

"I see." Again, Tywin's gaze crossed the room. Cersei thought she saw the exact moment when his eyes landed upon Tyrion. She could only hope that the words Catelyn had spoken to him would be enough to keep her younger brother by her side. But, to be honest, she did not know. The awareness of that made her keenly uncomfortable. Made it even harder than it might otherwise have been to sit at Joffrey's right and take audience with Tywin. 

If seemed as though he readily accepted audience from them. 

"I can only assume a ceremony has been planned to pass on the mantle of Hand of the King?" Tywin's gaze was on Ned Stark when he began to speak. It rested on Joffrey by the end. Each word was uttered slowly, almost menacingly, without something so overt as a threat. This was something Tywin Lannister exceeded at. His gaze alone sat heavily on Joffrey, allowing the silence to add greater weight on the new, young king. 

"I..." Joffrey's mouth opened with uncertainty. Cersei hadn't shared with her son Tywin's plan of assuming the name of Hand upon his arrival. Now she wondered whether, for all her planning, she had missed a vital step. 

He didn't like to seem uncertain, she knew. He wouldn't stand for looking to a woman--even if it was his mother--publicly. Certainly not with the enormous presence of his grandfather before him. Had Joffrey began to argue that he already had a Hand, Cersei could already hear Tywin's rebuttal: _"Ned Stark isn't blood. Oh, I'm sure he's been very loyal to you so far. We'll be sure to reward him..."_

Again, Cersei spoke for her son, hoping that he would forgive him. "We believed you would appreciate rest after your arrival. It has been a long journey, after all." She smiled, gritted teeth behind the lips, in a pale attempt to soften the comment. 

She would need to speak to Joffrey first after this audience, she knew. She couldn't allow for her father to get into his head first. 

"Of course," Tywin said smoothly. "Very thoughtful."

Cersei just inclined her head, about the same margin that Tywin had previously offered to Joffrey. This wasn't the last any of them would hear of this. No. Cersei was quite sure it was only the beginning.


	9. All Men Must Serve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some of the dialogue in this chapter between Tyrion and Cersei directly from Season 3, Episode 1, _Valar Dohaeris_ , though obviously the fanfic went in a different direction from there. 
> 
> As well, there has been no battle at Blackwater and Tyrion's face remains unscarred. Therefore, he has not been convalescing in his rooms before Cersei's arrival in this scene.

"You're meeting Father today." Cersei saw no reason to delay advising Tyrion why she had come to see him today. It wasn't like her to search him out, and they both knew it. 

Tyrion was just as frank in his response. "How did you know that?"

Cersei just gave him a look. She was Queen of Westeros. Her son was King. The arrival of their father did nothing to counter either of those things. Nor did it change her network of spies who, thankfully, still answered to her. 

No, not thankfully. She refused to be thankful for something she was owed just because Tywin had come here to make her feel small. 

She still remembered the expression on Joffrey's face the day before when Tywin had all but demanded the title of Hand of the King then and there. Cersei hated the idea that her father might make Joffrey as small as he already made her feel. 

Lifting her chin up and staring down her nose at Tyrion, Cersei said, "What do you want from him?" She tried to make it seem as though her skin didn't crawl at the idea that the two of them would speak about her behind her back. Or, worse, that they would try to take away the power that was rightfully hers now that Robert was gone. 

They had both been quite happy to leave her alone while he was still alive. 

Tyrion glanced at her from over the rim of the wine goblet he'd just poured. Those miscoloured eyes of his always seemed to see much more than he let on. It was just another of the disconcerting truths about her little brother. Cersei shuffled her feet, then squared her shoulders. She wasn't sure how to hold herself from him. She couldn't betray weakness to him, but she shouldn't come across as too aggressive either if she hoped for the two of them to be on the same side. 

Her brother didn't speak for long moments. In some ways, this was worse than when she'd seen Jaime. At least he'd talked, even if his voice had been full of bitterness and his gaze had hardly seemed to recognise her as blood at all. With Tyrion, Cersei could only guess at all the things he might be seeing and not speaking about. 

Eventually, he cleared his throat. After another gulp of wine, he said simply, "What I want from him is my father. Do I need to want something?" 

Cersei's brow furrowed. In everything she had braced herself to expect, this answer hadn't been among the number. She blinked in confusion, then tried to make it look natural, rather than that a speck of dust had gotten into her eye. She tried to remind herself to breathe slowly, pausing between the breaths. And most of all, to just make herself look natural. It shouldn't _be_ this difficult to speak to her blood. 

"And I want to speak to my brother," she said finally. 

"What does that mean?" Tyrion asked sharply, as though looking for a trick he hadn't yet seen. 

That was because there was not trick. Warily, Cersei spread her hands out. "I saw Jaime again."

"Ah yes, because that always makes you feel better." Tyrion threw back the last of the wine before turning away from her in order to pour some more. She noticed that he didn't offer any to her, but couldn't bring herself to feel surprise.

"Yes. Well." Cersei dipped her head, glad that Tyrion had already turned away so that he wouldn't see the flash of hurt in her eyes due to his callous disregard. "It's bracing, let's say that."

"And what caused this unexpected visit to our dear brother?" Tyrion asked, turning back around to face her. 

There was that gaze again, that unforgettable, all seeing gaze. Cersei did her best to answer him honestly. "I came to see what he would do when Father inevitably visited."

"As you seek to do now with me." Tyrion lifted his glass towards her in a mocking salute. 

"I know already Catelyn spoke to you," Cersei said. 

"Because you sent her to," Tyrion responded around a mouthful of wine. 

Funny how, no matter how much he drank, he never quite seemed to lose his wits around her. "I did," Cersei said, starting to feel the beginnings of annoyance despite herself. 

"Why do you care what I want from him?" Tyrion demanded, returning back to the subject of their father abruptly, and putting her even more on edge. 

"Because you slandered me to Father before," Cersei said, trying not to let the anger at the memory rise up in her. Deep breaths, she reminded herself once again. Perhaps sitting would ease her mind. She could sit, which would put her more at a level with him, and she could watch him pace while he drank. Maybe it would seem as though he was the one put off his guard. 

But Tyrion just looked at her. He spoke slowly, every word perfectly enunciated for her to hear. "It's not slander if it's true." 

"And what this truth you plan on telling him today?" Cersei demanded. This wasn't working. She wasn't calm, he wasn't allowing her to be calm, sitting down or standing up. At the back of her mouth, her molars clenched together, and Tyrion had probably already noticed that from the way that her jaw tightened. 

Still, despite all that, he didn't say anything. 

"Joffrey is your _king_ ," Cersei said starkly. She couldn't help but think of how Catelyn would have handled this had she been here, as she'd been with her the day she met with Jaime. But Cersei hadn't been leaving the castle this morning; she hadn't needed anyone to accompany her. Or so she'd thought. "More than that," she continued. "He is your family." 

But Tyrion just lifted his brows ever so slightly. "As is our father, I should think," he uttered finally. 

"Yes," Cersei said, feeling tired all of a sudden. "As is our father. So. You will side with him, then?" Her words felt heavy coming out of her. This was pointless. Every word she gave to Tyrion was one he could use against her in his conversation today with Father. 

"What side is that?" Tyrion asked, tipping his head to the side and looking at her in a way that seemed honestly curious. 

Cersei fought to keep from rolling her eyes. "The side that sees our father as Hand of the King instead of Ned Stark."

"Well," Tyrion said, pacing towards her again. "I didn't say _that_ exactly." 

"This is a game to you," Cersei hissed, having had enough of this. 

"It's all a _game_!" Tyrion scoffed at her as though she of all people should know this. Slowly, his features cleared out, and he nodded, as though he'd seen something in her face that answered a question he hadn't answered. "And the best way I play that game is to have all the information." 

Cersei's lips parted. She barely dared to hope. "All the information," she echoed. 

"Of course." Tyrion looked at her gamely. "You can hardly be seen as impassive. Not after that stunt you played in the throne room yesterday. It's clear where your decision lies. And Jaime, well, he hasn't set foot within these walls in almost a decade. I hardly think he's going to be Father's strongest ally." 

"And that leaves you," Cersei said, trying to maintain bland features. 

Tyrion saluted her with his goblet as though she'd said something quite quick. "And that leaves me. The Imp." He nodded, seemingly to himself now, pacing away from Cersei once again. "It could be nice to be the one to have Father's ear for a time." 

Cersei knew better than to say anything to that. 

He looked at her again, this enigmatic brother of hers. "Joffrey is my nephew," he said, picking up a thread from the earlier part of their conversation. "Naturally, I want what is best for him." 

Cersei stared back at him. She also knew better than to try to stare him down, but it didn't quite feel like they were partners on the same side yet either. At least her breath was slower now. And her mind wasn't dashing about at every possible outcome from this conversation. 

"I do too," was all she said, lips barely moving. 

Tyrion inclined his head. "You, Ned Stark and Lady Catelyn seem to be doing very well for him at the present time." 

"I hope that to be the case," she replied. 

"A lot has changed for him already," he continued. "The loss of his father, the betrothal to young Sansa Stark, elevation to King... It would be a shame to force more change on the lad at a time such as this. Don't you think?" 

Cersei met his eyes, not flinching, not judging the two different colours, not staring him down. She took her brother and his form in. With a deep breath, she nodded, and said, "I completely agree." 


	10. A Father's Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA Cersei has a lot of feelings about the clearly misogynous attitudes of her eldest son, even as she tries to mitigate them.
> 
> Some dialogue between Tywin and Cersei here taken from Season 3, Episode 4, _Kissed by Fire_ , moved to a different location in the palace.

Ned's hand was on Joffrey's shoulder, and there was an expression that looked like pride on his face as he looked down at Cersei's son. But it was the expression in Joffrey's gaze that got her. That stuck in her throat until she wanted to rip that hand from her son's shoulder. It didn't matter how proud Ned might be. He had his own sons. 

She didn't realise she was glaring in their direction until Catelyn cleared her throat gently, from right beside her. 

It got Cersei's attention without being obvious. Her brow lifted, which only made Cersei aware of how lowered it had been only a moment before. In addition to that, her jaw was tense. But with good reason! Joffrey had never looked at her the way that he was currently looking at Ned. As though he looked up to the man. This man who wasn't even his own blood. Not like Cersei, who had borne him. Who had gone through hours upon hours of pain and indignity to bring him into this world. Did that not matter at all?

There was serenity in Catelyn's face as the other woman looked back at her. She clasped her two hands in front of her abdomen and held the perfect posture of waiting. It looked as though Catelyn could have held that pose for hours and it wouldn't have taxed her. _That_ was the expression Cersei was meant to be holding. Not one of crude bitterness. She knew that. What had she to be bitter for, anyway? The entire realm belonged to her. 

What did it matter that her eldest son might never look upon her with such happiness and hope when she gazed back at him in pride?

It was all the better that she had decided to put Ned in front of Joffrey now, before Tywin could worm his way into her son's heart and mind. This moment only proved how much Joffrey needed a father figure front and centre in his life, she thought, as she gaze back away from Catelyn to her son once more. 

Neither one of them had even noticed the noise Catelyn had made to catch her attention. Or, if they had, they had ceased looking over at the two women when neither one of them said anything. Ned's whole attention was on Joffrey.

"As much as I loved him, I will admit that your father had his faults," Ned said. There was an honesty in his face as he said these words. Openness that invited the same to be returned to him. It was an expression Cersei had rarely seen on Robert's face without copious amounts of drink, and that had never inspired the same back in return. Ned was quite a different man and, if Cersei had been a different woman, she might have been jealous of Catelyn for her marriage. "You too will have faults, there's no avoiding that."

"But if I'm the king," Joffrey started, his voice turning sour with the same speed as his mouth turned down at the corners, "then surely I get to decide who has faults, and who doesn't."

Ned's lips curled up about the same amount as Joffrey's turned down, which only seemed to confuse him more. Cersei so wanted to speak, so wanted to add her own opinion into the conversation, but there wasn't a hint from Ned's form to suggest he himself didn't have this firmly in hand. "The world doesn't work that way, I'm afraid. Faults are faults, no matter who has them. And truth is truth."

Joffrey worked those words around in his mind as all three of them in the room watched him. At some point, he seemed to become aware again that he and Ned weren't the only ones in the sitting room. His gaze crossed over to Cersei, who offered him a small smile, about the same size as Ned's. Then it moved past her towards Catelyn. His brow furrowed and, even though Catelyn was Ned's wife--even though she had been Cersei's firm and trusted companion for some while now--Cersei could see the moment in her son's face where he questioned the fact that Catelyn was in this room, baring witness to this lesson. 

But, before he could say anything aloud to that effect, there was a knock on the door swiftly followed by Tyrion striding in without waiting for anyone to answer. 

Because that... that was her brother's way. 

"Good afternoon everyone," he said brashly, as though he hadn't just interrupted a conversation going before his arrival. "I have news."

Ned turned away from Joffrey to face Tyrion, his hand moving from Joffrey's shoulder. Joffrey, perhaps in response to this, or perhaps not wanting to appear the shortest one in the room, stood up. "What news?" Joffrey asked. 

"Your Majesty," Tyrion said, bowing to his nephew the exact proper amount and not an inch more. Cersei wondered how many of them in this room noticed that. "Your grandfather has made the strong suggestion that I step into the role of your Master of Coin."

Again with that brow furrow from Joffrey. But he didn't look to Cersei. He looked to Ned, his Hand. Which was completely appropriate given the circumstances, Cersei reminded herself.

"His Majesty will take this under advisement," Ned answered smoothly, as though Tywin wasn't already attempting to take more power than he could reasonably claim. He hadn't brought up the topic of a ceremony granting him the title of Hand of the King again. No, it seemed as though he was simply going to move forward as though the position had already been granted. 

Tyrion glanced at Ned and inclined his head. "My father was rather... forceful in his 'suggestion'," he added. 

"No doubt he was."

Cersei almost thought she judged... amusement in Ned's tone of voice. How could that be. Didn't he understand the severity of this move from their father? No, of course not. How could he? He hadn't grown up in a house with Lord Tywin as lord and master. No one could change his mind once he had made it. 

Tyrion took a seat by the door. He glanced around himself then, seeing no wine, sighed morosely. This wasn't exactly the kind of meeting they could bring serving staff into. Cersei strove not to roll her eyes. The alliance between herself and Tyrion--if that was what they were to call it--was new still, and she still didn't quite know what to make of it. 

"And you think it wise to... deny him then?" Tyrion asked. 

Again, Cersei looked to Catelyn who, it appeared, seemed perfectly at ease with having been relegated to furniture in this room and conversation. Not Cersei! She could hold her thoughts in no more! "You don't know him," she advised, saying aloud the very thing that had been stuck in her head. 

"I know that he is not the King of Westeros," Ned answered mildly. He glanced to Joffrey again, who was still standing beside him, almost shoulder to shoulder. "That title, and every responsibility that comes along with it, belongs to young King Joffrey here."

Joffrey's chest puffed up a little more at this statement, his chin lifted. It was an interesting way to choose to put it -- 'responsibilities' instead of, say, 'power'. 

"Yes..." Tyrion drawled, looking between the two men. "As wholesome as that sentiment sounds..."

"It will not stop our father reminding us of how much the crown owes to House Lannister specifically." Cersei felt like she was repeating herself, and with good reason. "Be assured that one way or another, he will undermine us."

"He will undermine the King of Westeros?" Ned asked slowly, as though barely able to believe such. "The line he himself helped put in place? When we threw down Aerys Targaryen rather than bring him Tywin Lannister's head as he'd commanded?"

"The very same," Cersei admitted through gritted teeth. 

Better Ned and Catelyn understood sooner what she and Tyrion already knew. Tywin wouldn't even see that he should be grateful for the double cross that had happened, in part, to save his life. No matter that it had destroyed his eldest son in the process.

"We can't have that," Ned said, waving one hand dismissively, as though this news phased him not at all. "The crown is obviously very grateful to House Lannister for its past generosity. Arrangements _should_ be made to pay that generosity off."

"With what?" Cersei demanded lowly. "I'm sure it can't have escaped your notice that the crown is low in funds, thanks in great part to Lord Baelish during Robert's reign."

"It must be," Tyrion murmured, almost to himself. "Why else would Father put me in charge of it?"

"He hasn't put you in charge of it," Ned asserted, more forcefully this time. "King Joffrey may do. In fact," Ned said, with another look towards Joffrey, "as Hand of the King, I would advise this is a rather wise course of action."

"You do?" Joffrey asked doubtfully. 

Cersei shared that exact sentiment. But what else were they supposed to do against Tywin? Agreeing with him was tantamount to letting him win. Disagreeing was showing too much of their hand too soon. He had them exactly where he wanted them. 

"Very much so," Ned said, blithely unaware of the direction of Cersei's thoughts. "What better way to show our appreciation of House Lannister than promoting one of their own to the position of Master of Coin?"

News came to the crown that Daenerys Targaryen was in Astapor with her newly hatched dragons, negotiating with slavers, and that Stannis Baratheon too was gathering men. Cersei would have loved to be able to pay a proper amount of attention to those threats. Unfortunately, the biggest threat was still the one who had walked in through the front door of King's Landing. 

Tywin had summoned Cersei to him which, of course, she had ignored. Ned Stark may be content with putting his own spin on doing as Tywin ordered, but Cersei would allow herself no such thing. She was the Queen of Westeros and she would be summoned by no man. Not even her father. She needed him to be aware of that. No, she needed him to _accept_ that. Maybe that would convince her that she and Tyrion had overestimated his decisions to take over King's Landing for himself. 

But, no. When she didn't respond to his summons, he found her surprisingly quickly. While she was watching over one of Joffrey's sword lessons. One that had been picked up by Ned Stark towards the end of it. Looking down at them, one might have thought they were watching a father teaching a son. There was an enjoyment to Ned, a lightness to his foot and voice--when she could hear it up here--that made Cersei think that this might be reminiscent of him teaching Robb or Bran, or one of the two other boys. Perhaps the true born boys might have been up here in King's Landing with him and Catelyn had it not been for the fact that they needed to run Winterfell in their father's absence.

"The two of them seem to be becoming quite close," Tywin said, the first she'd been aware of his presence behind her. 

Cersei looked over her shoulders. There were two guards behind her, but who was going to stop Tywin Lannister from coming to have a conversation with his only daughter?

"Quite," she said. "A king needs to be able to rely on his Hand."

Maybe it was too pointed. She deliberately didn't look to meet him face to face, because she wasn't sure that whatever expression came over her face would have made her words any better. So she kept watching Joffrey. Her boy didn't have a father anymore. Instead of cleaving to his grandfather like he might have, it looked like he was already filling that void with his own father's best friend. 

Maybe things could have been worse if they had fallen another way. 

"I see a boy who misses his father, not a king with his Hand," Tywin said. It was an obvious comparison. Cersei wouldn't have thought her father would miss it. 

"And so what if you do?" Cersei asked softly. So what if her son got a little bit of happiness to help him move forward from his grief. 

_My son… Help him, Ned. Make him better than me._

Those last words came to her once again. Her late husband's final wishes. And Ned was following through on them; a man of his word. 

Ned had been right; Robert had so many flaws. But she believed he had loved his children, if not her. And perhaps Ned could help Joffrey to remember that. Ned would, after all, be able to help Joffrey to remember parts of his father that Cersei had never known. Perhaps that would help in making him a better man than his father had been. 

"Ned Stark is not Joffrey's blood," Tywin said, breaking the hopeful moment Cersei had allowed herself with his harsh words. "He will _never be_ Joffrey's blood."

"No," Cersei said, still soft. "But he may just want the best for our king."

"Are you willing to bet Joffrey's future on a 'may'?" She could tell that he was looking at her, trying to pin her down with his hard stare. In the past, that look had made her quail before him, so worried that she might lose any respect that he had for her in the first place. She'd always wanted for him to look at her the way he looked at Jaime. Now Jaime was nowhere to be seen and he _still_ didn't look at her that way. Cersei didn't need to meet his gaze to know that, and she wasn't going to weaken before him now. 

Those days were now passed.

Cersei considered the 'may' of Ned Stark, who had proved himself multiple times to be a man of his word. Of Catelyn Stark, who she trusted with her very life, as well as those of her children. And she considered that against the very surety that Tywin would not hesitate to use Joffrey as a pawn in his latest schemes. Schemes that Cersei knew she was not privy to. 

Oh yes, she would bet 'may' above that. 

But, still, it would not do to say as much to her father so baldly. Not when so much of their plans counted on them putting him off as long as possible. Until Joffrey was old enough to have formed his own mind, away from the influences of his grandfather's machinations. 

Eventually, however, he stopped waiting for her to speak and instead moved onto whatever must have brought him here in the first place. 

"Never mind that now. We have something important to discuss." His voice was low and gravelly. 

"What do you mean?" She didn't want to ask, but silence had already been her tool a moment before. He wouldn't stand for her simply declining to answer once again. 

"You'll marry Ser Loras," Tywin said, and just like that Cersei could already see his plan unfolding. 

"I will not," Cersei said, shocked and horrified enough that she finally did turn to meet his eye. His plan was simple; she couldn't influence Joffrey away from his grandfather if she simply was not here. Sansa would follow Joffrey, not her father. Ned Stark would be lucky to keep his head, if Tywin had his way, and Catelyn...

Cersei could not see Catelyn become a bereaved widow to a man she had honestly loved. Not if she could stand between them and that. This was larger than Joffrey now. Tywin would see the end of everything that Cersei had managed to pull together. 

He didn't even have to wait her out. In the eyes of so many, this was a perfectly neat and suitable match. He continued to speak, uncaring of her utter dismay. "The boy is heir to Highgarden. You will secure the Reach. You're still fertile. You need to marry again and breed."

Cersei didn't care what he thought she would secure. She had already secured King's Landing with her three children by Robert. That had been his last command. This was enough. He spoke to her now as though she was nothing more than a broodmare. 

"I am Queen Regent," Cersei said, saying each of these words clearly and slowly so that there could be no misunderstanding. He could not tell her what to do-- _would_ not tell her what to do. Not ever again.

"You're my daughter!" Tywin said, slamming his fist on the railing before them. 

The sudden display of temper stunned Cersei to silence. So. To Tywin Lannister, it mattered more that she was his daughter than she his Queen Regent. It had been stated. It had been stated aloud now. She had guessed it before, but he had stated it now. He would never obey her. More importantly than that, he would never, ever obey his grandson.


	11. Their Place in the World

Cersei walked into Catelyn's rooms without knocking. She knew that she would not find Ned there, and didn't much think of anything else. 

Not until she saw Sansa jump in surprise, her red head turning swiftly away from her mother and towards Cersei. Cersei watched the play of emotions cross the young girl's face. Irritation at being interrupted. Realisation of who had just entered. Chagrin at having her annoyance witnessed. An immature attempt to school her features. 

She was so much like Cersei at that age. Moreso than even Myrcella.

Cersei gave her a soft smile to show she was not annoyed in return. She didn't want to frighten the girl, after all. And these were her own mother's rooms. She wanted Sansa to have spaces in the palace where she could be comfortable.

Sansa's head whipped back around to face Catelyn. Catelyn didn't mimic that frenetic energy, not even a bit. Her hand rose to touch the girl on the upper arm. "Peace," she said gently. "All will be well. I promise you."

Sansa stared at Catelyn with such intensity that Cersei could tell plainly that she wanted to say something more but didn't wish to do so in front of Cersei. Or in front of the Queen Regent. Or, perhaps, in front of Joffrey's mother. 

"Shall I come back later?" Cersei asked kindly. 

"Not at all," Catelyn said before Sansa could say anything. Her fingers stroked through Sansa's hair in an easy gesture of affection. "We were just finishing."

Sansa stood, deciding to let her mother's words end the conversation between them rather than push further. Upon facing Cersei fully, she bowed.

"Child," Cersei said, allowing a smile to warm her words despite the conversation she'd just had with Tywin. "We are going to be family. You do not need to bow so low."

This didn't seem to reassure her. With another quick glance, Sansa fled the room. 

Cersei raised her eyebrows and met Catelyn's gaze as the other woman stood to greet her. 

"Oh," she said on a sigh, her Northern brogue stronger than usual. "I would not go back to that age for anything."

"Would you not?" Cersei tipped her head to the side in curiosity. She rather thought she might. To go back to a more innocent time. When she had still thought she stood a chance of her father's favour. Or even a love match. But then, she would not have her children. She would not know Catelyn. She would be that much closer to the death of her own mother with no one to comfort her. Still struggling to find a proper place for herself in the world. "No, I suppose I would not either."

She sat down in the place Sansa had previously occupied, watching as Catelyn followed her to sit once more. 

"What childhood dramatics did Sansa come to bring this afternoon?" she asked, wanting the distraction for a little longer. _You'll marry Ser Loras. The boy is heir to Highgarden. You will secure the Reach._

Catelyn waved a hand. "You remember the girlhood fancies from that age."

Actually, for once, Cersei had no idea what Catelyn was talking about. Sansa was similar to Cersei in attitude, but Cersei had never allowed herself to show fancy to anyone. Not after her mother died. Not after she knew what it felt like for someone to be pulled cruelly away from her. She wouldn't give life the chance to do that to her often.

Apparently it never occurred to Catelyn that another woman may have skipped the developmental stage of girlhood fancies, for she went on without waiting for Cersei to comment. "Sansa has formed a friendship with Margaery Tyrell. She fancies herself quite infatuated, and worries this makes her an unproper wife."

Margaery Tyrell was a beautiful girl. Her family had brought her to King's Landing at the same time as they had brought Ser Loras. Cersei wondered how certain they were already that a betrothal would take place between Loras and Cersei, how much Tywin had already promised on her behalf, as though it never occurred to him that she would refuse.

Cersei let out a slow, steady breath. 

"Are you well?" Catelyn leaned forward, reaching a hand to touch lightly against the back of Cersei's. Cersei looked up to the other woman and saw only true concern there. She didn't pull her hand back, nor pretend there had been any other reason for the momentary lapse in her composure. 

"My father spoke to me this morning," she said instead, and then proceeded to fill Catelyn in on the conversation, on Tywin's plans for removing Cersei from court, and her surety now that he would not freely follow the rulings of his younger kin. 

"But... he's my grandfather." Joffrey's voice sounded as small as Cersei had ever heard it. She sat closest to him this time, not Ned. 

"Yes," Tyrion said grimly. "And he is also an over entitled man. One who will ruin us all if we leave him an opening." Tyrion met each of their eyes in turn before he began to pace, to make sure that they all understood the seriousness of his words. For once, Cersei agreed wholeheartedly with him. 

The five of them had met in a room within a secret passage that somehow Tyrion was the one to know about. Ned's face had been dark as Tyrion led the way. 

"As Hand of the King," he'd groused, "it is my duty to know secrets of this magnitude that could impact upon the King's safety."

"So, now you know," Tyrion had told him off hand. 

Even Ned seemed to agree with Tyrion now, irreverent as her younger brother could be. 

All of them faced each other with similar expressions of unease and dread. 

"He brought most of an army with him from Casterly Rock," Ned muttered, as though recounting facts to himself. "He may be prepared to bide his time, but he is ready to fight to get his way."

"I have an army too!" Joffrey reminded him. 

Cersei lay a hand gently on Joffrey's arm in a similar way to what she had seen between Catelyn and Sansa. "One that is loyal to your uncle," she said. 

"And so easy for Tywin to sway," Ned said, continuing her thought. 

"Exactly."

"There is no way the boys could come down from Winterfell," Catelyn said. "There's not enough time. But maybe the Eyrie. It is closer. I could ask my sister--"

"What we are talking is civil war," Tyrion said, making sure to enunciate the words exactly so that no one could mistake his meaning. "In any case, Father and I had a little conversation today." He swung his goblet of wine to punctuate the words. Having set up this meeting, he had ensured this time there would be refreshments. 

Cersei was quick to sit forward and react. "You did not tell me this!"

Tyrion just raised his eyebrows at her, making her realise that she had run on the old script of their interactions. Remorse stuck in her throat. It was an uncomfortable emotion, and not one she was used to feeling. However, Tyrion's dichromatic eyes stared at her, reminding her that he had far longer patience than she had been brought up to find. 

Besides that, she knew an admission was the right thing. The thing that was going to keep this fragile alliance of theirs moving forward. "I'm... sorry," she said, hating the words and their weakness even as she said them. 

Tyrion inclined his head, accepting the apology with no further words. At least there was that, then. 

"In our conversation," Tyrion resumed, "Tywin informed me... Oh. I'm sorry. No. He made quite sure to _reassure_ me he had a way of keeping our _Queen Regent_ in line."

Cersei just stared at him. But she wasn't going to fall into a trap a second time and speak her mind without thinking it through first. Instead, she lifted her chin, and said merely, "Go on."

"It appears our father has been in court long enough to have noticed how special a friend our Catelyn has become to the Queen Regent." Tyrion began to pace, his small legs making the length of the room take longer for him to traverse. "Added to that Eddard Stark still being Hand of the King, and our father has come to one very simple conclusion."

"The Starks have too much power." Ned was the one who said it aloud, and Cersei watched Catelyn's attention turn to her husband immediately at the sound of his words. 

Tyrion pointed a finger towards Ned as though awarding him a prize. "The Starks have too much power. The Lannisters have come into the throne, yet somehow it is the Starks who are reaping the benefit of it." Tyrion tsked under his breath, shaking his head and not looking at anyone as he resumed pacing. "You can imagine how happy that makes Father."

"What's he going to do?" It was Catelyn who spoke this time. Her face had gone even paler than usual, her lips barely moving around the sounds as though she only just dared to ask.

Tyrion didn't answer immediately. Perhaps he wanted to spare her from the answer. Tyrion had never been needlessly cruel to those who didn't deserve it. 

That suspicion was confirmed a moment later when he sidestepped with his answer. "Nothing good. He says he already has men in place in the North."

Ned shook his head, disbelieving. "Winterfell is defensible. Robb, Bran and Theon are there. They won't just let it fall because Tywin Lannister has men in place."

"Bran has left the castle. Last seen going going north," Tyrion said. 

"No!" Catelyn's voice was louder this time. She said it again. "No. My son wouldn't leave Winterfell without writing to tell us."

From the looks exchanged between Ned and Catelyn, this was what they both believed. 

Another pause from Tyrion, then, "Be that as it may, this is what Father reports. Perhaps it would be... wise to make sure."

Catelyn looked to Cersei. "He's trying to get us to leave King's Landing," she said, her eyes wide. 

"It could be that that's the only trap," Cersei agreed. "Removing you just as he intends to remove me from King's Landing through marriage to Loras." 

"But it also could be truth." Ned looked at Tyrion, rather than Catelyn, as he spoke. 

He stared at Tyrion a long time, the very picture of a man torn. How could he stay on here as the Hand of the King if there was even the possibility that his heirs were in danger back at Winterfell? He couldn't. Tywin had chosen the perfect bait, damn him. 

The door behind Cersei creaked open. Tyrion, Joffrey and Ned all pulled out their swords. 

"Relax, men. It is only me."

Tyrion was the first of them to relax his sword arm. Ned, however, looked as ready to fight as ever. Joffrey looked between his Hand and his uncle, hand still on his own sword. 

Jaime stood in the opening of the door, already moving to close it lest the light or the noise between them gave them away to any others who might be lurking in these tunnels. 

"It's all right," Tyrion said, sounding weary. "I asked him to be here."

"You asked--?!" Cersei started. But that was the part that was easier to believe. Harder to believe that Jaime had come into the castle of his own free will. She just stared at him, mouth slightly open. And then she stood, leaving Joffrey's side for a moment. She gazed up at Jaime, as though she could barely bring herself to believe he was here. "Are you really here to help?"

Jaime looked away from her almost violently, and strode to pour from the same wine that Tyrion had already partaken. Slowly, Ned put away his sword, though he still eyed Cersei's twin warily. 

"Drink well," Tyrion said. "For there is plenty more here."

"Not too well," Cersei told them sternly. She couldn't help herself. They were here to find a way to keep Tywin from taking over King's Landing, not for them to get drunk.

"What's your plan so far?" Jaime asked Tyrion roughly, as though he wasn't much used to speaking to others anymore. 

"Well, first of all, it's to clean you up so you look like something resembling the fighter you once more." Tyrion looked Jaime up and down in seeming disgust. "Nobody will follow you while you're looking like that."

"I didn't come here to be insulted--"

"Didn't you?" Tyrion cut in quickly. "You certainly didn't dress up for the event. What did you think we would ask you to do? I'm told our sister came to remind you you are still seen as a legend among the King's Guard."

"Yes," Jaime ground out.

"Then you should look like it." He gestured once again with his cup, before muttering pointedly, "Appearances matter. I'd have thought you understood that, growing up with the differences between you and me."

"Anything else?" Jaime asked dryly.

"No." Ned cut into what was clearly becoming a conversation best had exclusively between brothers. "We need to find out if Tywin is bluffing. And if not--"

"Yes," Tyrion said over him. "We'd like you to take over the King's Guard once more. Oh, and as many of Father's men as you can turn to our side. And perhaps see about countermanding an order that may have gone up to Winterfell."

Jaime just looked at Tyrion. 

Cersei couldn't blame him. Put like that, it seemed an absurd thing they were asking when, just moments before, she'd been so surprised he'd even arrived here at all. 

"Please."

The word came as a surprise to Cersei, who didn't think she'd ever heard her eldest say that word -- possibly in his entire life. He hadn't said a word, not since they'd brought up the idea of the possible need to do away with Tywin Lannister, or at least permanently remove him from court. But here Joffrey was, staring at his uncle, the one he'd barely had time to know before he'd stepped out of all their lives. Jaime was basically a stranger to Joffrey, and yet he said again, 

"Please, Uncle."

Catelyn sat down as though her legs were in danger of no longer holding her. Ned moved closer, as though to comfort his wife had she a need. 

And Jaime... Jaime seemed almost struck to stone by Joffrey's simple plea. There was no part of Jaime that moved. He almost didn't seem to breathe, especially in the dim light of the room with shadows all around them. 

Cersei's heart broke for her son. The one who was so clearly searching for a father figure after his own father's death. Who, just like her at his age, didn't quite know his place in the world even if he did have hopes about where that might be. 

Joffrey wanted to be King. He'd been groomed for it his entire life. The only thing unexpected had been how soon it had happened, how early Robert had died. Now that it was here, however, Joffrey didn't want it taken away. He understood now that this was what his grandfather had come to do, even if Tywin would allow Joffrey to keep the title of King. It would be a hollow victory. That wasn't enough for the boy, any more than it would have been enough for Cersei. But Joffrey had one thing going for him that Cersei had never had. 

He was a young man.

A young man with hopes and ambitions that the world hadn't yet crushed, just as Jaime had been before becoming the Kingslayer.


	12. The Dornish Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue between Tywin and Jaime Lannister taken from Season 4, Episode 1, _Two Swords_ , although in a different part of the palace, and with Cersei eavesdropping the conversation.
> 
> I've additionally gone with the book version of Oberyn of Dorne's arrival here in _A Storm of Swords_ , instead of the series. Therefore, it isn't just for a royal wedding that he and his entourage arrive, but an invitation to join King Joffrey's council.

"You'll have to train with your left hand."

Cersei stopped in the hall, hearing her father's voice. He was clearly speaking to someone else, but that didn't mean that she wanted to actually cross his path. Far better to eavesdrop from here and therefore be able to report on what she'd heard later. 

Tyrion wasn't the only sneaky one in House Lannister.

But then she heard her brother's voice; Jaime's, not Tyrion's. 

"Any decent swordsman knows how to use both hands." He almost sounded like he used to. It had been a week since their meeting in the room Tyrion had supplied, and part of the agreement would be that Jaime would pull himself together so that he could actually use Tyrion's favour against their father. And yet, Cersei was taken aback by how... well he sounded. 

Of course their father needed to knock him down. "You'll never be as good." Favour didn't mean much in their family, after all. Cersei didn't think it would have been any different had Tywin actually known how low Jaime had allowed himself to sink over the last 9 years. He'd made his assumptions, and they were coming in useful now. 

The two of them weren't walking as they spoke, weren't coming any closer towards her, yet Cersei was still careful, taking a few steps back every couple of moments, making sure that she could still hear them while being as far away as was reasonably possible. 

"No," Jaime replied to Tywin. "But as long as I'm better than everyone else, I suppose it doesn't matter." He sounded... cocksure. Had he used to sound that way before? Cersei could hardly remember. It seemed like she should have. They had known each other inside and out once upon a time. 

"You can't serve in the Kingsguard with one hand." And there it was. The one potential problem. One that they had expected to run into. Tywin Lannister was a traditionalist after all. 

And it sounded like Jaime had already made himself prepared, for he didn't miss a beat. "Where's that written? I can and I will. The Kingsguard oath is for life." Meet one tradition with another. Tywin could hardly argue against that.

Jaime almost sounded as though he believed it. 

Cersei knew better, though. 

She'd almost turned to leave on silent feet, sure that she'd heard the only relevant part of the conversation when Tywin's voice reached her ears once more. "You'll be returning to Casterly Rock, to rule in my stead."

Cersei bit back a gasp. No. _No_. She would not stand for Tywin uprooting himself from their lands to take over hers. The idea of it filled her with fury. He was acting as though she was already gone. Maybe she should just storm in there right now, and...

"You are the Lord of Casterly Rock." For the first time, Jaime sounded uncertain.

"I am the King's Hand," Tywin answered smoothly. "My place is here. I don't expect to see the Rock again before I die."

"Funny," Jaime said, fare more calmly than Cersei would have managed right then. "I don't seem to remember there being a ceremony to announce the changing Hand of the King."

"There doesn't need to be one," Tywin answered with arrogance. "I know what's best for my family."

"I believe that much of your family are adults who know what's best for themselves," Jaime responded mildly. 

"You would think so," Tywin said drolly. 

Cersei could just imagine the expression on her father's face as he said that. Eyes half lidded, an almost roll of his eyes even as he encouraged Jaime to agree with him that the rest of their family couldn't be trusted to do what was best for House Lannister. Because no one could act better than Tywin Lannister. 

Just as expected, Jaime didn't make a reply to that. It wouldn't be in keeping to start an argument from that remark. It wouldn't have been like the Jaime that Tywin was expecting to meet. 

And there was yet another surprise. As well as Highgarden, Tywin had written to Dorne, inviting Prince Doran Martell to join King Joffrey's council. While the idea of an alliance with Dorne was far from foolish, it was another instance of Tywin pulling power where he didn't have it in official capacity. The news was made worse by the fact that Catelyn had ridden from court earlier that week, to seek news of her sons in person. There was no universe in which they could spare Ned from Joffrey's side as Hand of the King without creating a vacuum that Tywin would immediately fill. 

Cersei felt as though control was slipping through her fingers with each passing hour and there was nothing she could do about it. How did one control a force such as Tywin Lannister?

"Carefully," Tyrion told her that night, offering her a glass of wine for what was perhaps the first time. 

It was a testament to how frazzled Cersei was feeling that she accepted the glass without thinking. She hadn't even seen Joffrey today, except in passing, though she trusted that word would have been sent to her had her father managed to speak to him. Her orders had been very clear. 

"You need to calm yourself," Tyrion said, his voice already sounding slightly slurred from whatever amount of wine he'd already imbibed. 

"Easy for you to say!" Cersei said heatedly, even though it wasn't him she wanted to argue with. 

"Quite difficult, I would say. You act as though this behaviour from our father is new. I've been dealing with it for all my life."

Cersei sipped her wine as it allowed her to contemplate the words he'd just offered, words that created a completely different outlook of the world than the one she had seen growing up. Her disillusionment with their father was new. But Tyrion was right. It had always been there. It hurt her now because she didn't expect him to speak to her like this. But it hurt Tyrion because he'd never had cause to expect anything else. 

"I'm sorry." The words came out easier this time, the second time she'd said the words to her brother in as many weeks. 

Tyrion looked surprised. He hadn't expected this apology like he had the last one. 

"Don't be silly," he said gruffly, turning his face away from her. Almost as though he didn't know how to take this apology. "You didn't cause him to act that way."

"But I didn't see it," Cersei said. "I didn't do anything to stop it."

Tyrion scoffed. "You were a child. We all were."

"I'm not a child now."

"No," Tyrion murmured into his wine. "None of us are."

It was Tyrion who met the delegation arriving from Dorne. Ostensibly, he would act as Tywin's representative. In actual fact, he stood there to gather first information on Prince Doran, and to control the direction of information. He would choose what Tywin did and didn't know. 

For the event, Tyrion only brought with him one sell sword named Bronn. An earlier version of Cersei would have scoffed at this, would have doubted that Tyrion knew what he was doing. How could a single sell sword possibly offer greater protection than any member of the Kingsguard, or show the strength of their position? 

Tyrion might have replied drolly that King's Landing itself more than adequately demonstrated the strength of their position. They would have argued over it, before Tyrion ultimately did the thing he'd decided on doing anyway. All it would have done is further fracture an already broken relationship. 

But prior to his leaving, Cersei asked only, "Are you sure?" and he paused to look at her a moment before replying. 

"Why, sister, you almost seem concerned over my wellbeing." His heavy eyebrows lowered over his nose.

Cersei didn't say anything. In the moment, she didn't know what to say. 

A slight smile twisted the corner of Tyrion's lips. "It's a good look on you."

Cersei's first glimpse of the Dorne delegation informed her not only that Prince Doran was conspicuously absent, but that a bastard-born companion had accompanied the younger Prince Oberyn in his stead. Bastard-born! Ellaria Sand was no fit companion to a prince! She was no more fit to be received in royal company than even Ned Stark's bastard would have been. 

In that moment, Cersei missed Catelyn fiercely. She could only imagine the way that Catelyn would have looked down her nose on the lesser woman, putting her in her place with nothing more than a word and a look that only those better than Ellaria Sand would have picked up on. Perhaps she would even have seen it as kindness, and diplomacy and proper station would have both been observed. 

Cersei hadn't been brought up with Catelyn's subtlety, but yet she couldn't stand for such an insult to King Joffrey. 

"Peace," Tyrion told her, when he saw nothing more than the expression on her face. No words had even left her mouth. 

Holding back the words made her feel as though she was going to burst from the pressure. She felt like she was only just getting to know Tyrion. Did he already know her so well that he could anticipate her moods from a mere expression? And yet, the word reminded her of the way Catelyn had spoken. 

_Peace. All will be well. I promise you._

Cersei didn't see how all could be well--no more than Sansa had at the time--but she decided to take her brother's advice now just as Sansa had then. Her two brothers and Ned were all she had in Catelyn's absence.


	13. The Lion and the Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for this chapter, I took dialogue again out of Season 4, Episode 1, _Two Swords_ that originally happened between Oberyn and Morgan Lannister - a soldier in the service of House Lannister who only appears in this episode. But I thought it would be more relevant here to give such words to Cersei.

The first time she spoke to Oberyn, it felt like a mistake from the beginning. 

His dark brown eyes gazed into her, far more steadily than was proper. It appeared that, through consorting with such lowly paramours, the prince had picked up some of their decided lack of polish. 

It was an insult that Cersei couldn't fail to rectify. 

"Can I help you?" Cersei's tone said that she had better not be able to, for his sake.

"Forgive me for staring. I don't see many Lannisters where I'm from."

Cersei snorted. As though any Lannister would deign to visit Dorne of their own free will. She looked him up and down. "I don't see many Dornishmen in the capital." Not until her father had invited them, anyway. 

Oberyn was quick to reply. "We don't like the smell." This was accompanied by a laugh that grated on Cersei's very last nerve.

The idea that this man might be part of Joffrey's council in his brother's stead could not be borne. 

"It was Prince Doran we summoned to King's Landing. You are but a pale copy." She didn't care that these were words Catelyn would ever have uttered. Didn't care that it lacked any diplomacy Tyrion might have brought to the table. 

There was still laughter in Oberyn's eyes as he answered her. It was clear he wasn't offended in the slightest. His voice quietened slightly, as he asked. "Do you know why all the world hates a Lannister? You think your gold and your lions and your gold lions make you better than everyone."

"Because we are," Cersei answered simply, not pausing to ponder the ridiculous way that he put things. She'd been brought up knowing this to be fact. Her elevation to Queen of Westeros only proved this for anyone paying attention. 

"And I am only a second son," Oberyn responded gamely. When Cersei twitched in surprise, Oberyn spread his hands. "Let us speak the truth, after all. It is what I am. Hiding from it will do nobody any good."

Cersei came close to bearing her teeth at his continued good humour. "If you knew yourself to be viewed as only a second son, why did you deign to journey all the way to King's Landing in his place?" 

"Ah." For the first time, that smile moved from his mouth, dimming in the wake of his thoughts. "My brother's health restricts travel from Sunspear."

"And I suppose somewhere, in your joint thoughts, you believed we would welcome a brute warrior such as yourself in his stead?" Cersei raised one eyebrow in disbelief. 

"Well, yes, I suppose I can see how you would view it that way." He took a step towards Cersei, and it took everything in her not to take a responding step back. There was fire in his eyes now, where there had been humour before. The abrupt change was quite disorienting. "It has been some time since I was last in the capital. My sister was with me on my last visit. Ask me why she is not with me now."

Cersei had heard the rumours. Of course she had. King's Landing lived on such vital gossip. But there was no answer she could offer that would be satisfying to Oberyn now. She saw that quite clearly. 

"No? Well let me answer anyway. Gregor Clegane the Mountain raped Elia and then split her in half with his great sword."

"Prince Oberyn..." Cersei started. 

Oberyn lifted a hand and Cersei almost flinched away from it before he merely moved that hand to stroke his chin. "'Prince' now, is it?" he asked, quoting her mockingly, before going back to his point. "Interesting. If the Mountain killed my sister, your father gave the order. I find it very interesting he would invite any member of my family back to King's Landing now. But I'm not one to refuse an invitation. No matter who it comes from."

Cersei's mind whirled. If Oberyn was convinced that the order had come from Tywin Lannister, then perhaps he was an unwitting ally in getting her father out of King's Landing. Of course, if someone had killed Jaime and then a member of the House who'd organised it came to her for help years later... Cersei knew the way she would have reacted to that, and it wouldn't have been favourable. 

She would have to be careful in the way she played this. Perhaps Tyrion had some inkling of an idea based on his own interactions with Oberyn thus far. 

"So this is where you've gotten to, lover." Out of seemingly nowhere, Ellaria Sand swept up between them, interrupting the direction of Cersei's thoughts. She leaned her cheek against Oberyn's shoulder even as her hand reached for one of Oberyn's. And then she gazed at Cersei. 

It wasn't so intrusive a look as the one Oberyn had given at the beginning of their conversation, but Cersei found it hard to meet that gaze for reasons she couldn't quite fathom. Oberyn very clearly had a reason for being here, and a reason for talking to her today. But Ellaria just seemed... curious. 

"You've found the Queen," Ellaria said, her voice quite musical. 

"I have." Oberyn lifted Ellaria's hand to his lips to kiss as though Cersei wasn't standing right there in front of this display. 

Although Ellaria smiled at the gesture of affection from her lover, her eyes didn't leave Cersei. 

And she felt quite... stuck. 

"Queen Regent," she corrected, lifting her chin. It was the only thing to say that came to mind. Her thoughts felt decidedly... sluggish. It was a very unfamiliar feeling to her. Even more disconcerting than the way Oberyn's features had changed swift and without warning during their conversation and even as Ellaria had joined them.

"You don't look nearly old enough to be called that," Ellaria answered after a moment of consideration. 

Oberyn's lifted to look to Ellaria's face, then across to Cersei's, and then to his paramour's again. 

"Hmm," was all he said, giving little indication of what he'd seen there. But it was definitely something. And it was throwing all of Cersei's thoughts and intensions askew. 

Cersei lifted her chin abruptly. She sifted her mind for a reasonable retort, and came up with nothing. With a sniff, she simply turned on her toe and marched in the opposite direction without so much as a by your leave. Oberyn may be a Prince of Dorne, but he wasn't the mother of the King of all Westeros. 

Instead of insult behind her, however, she merely heard laughter. His, of course, but also her lighter tones. She flushed, and was glad to be faced away so that neither of them could note it. 

What had she been thinking? The enemy of her enemy might be quite useful, if she could somehow manage to get them on side. But with creatures as confounding as the Dornish, Cersei hadn't the faintest idea of how she might manage that.

Months before, she would have written to Catelyn about this feeling that had arisen in her chest seemingly from nowhere. That option was not available to her this time. For one, Catelyn would not yet be back in Winterfell and, for two, how could Cersei think to burden her when she was returning there to make sure her sons were well? 

No. She knew she had to take care of this for herself. 

She had notes left in both Tyrion and Jaime's rooms summoning them to her that night. Before, however, she could make that meeting, Sir Loras Tyrell came across her path. She would have known better than to think it by accident even if she hadn't just finished with her altercation with Oberyn only hours before. 

This palace was far too small if everyone could find her so easily.

"Sir Loras," she said, as civilly as she could force herself. 

"Queen Regent Cersei."

Cersei's mind flashed back without her bidding it to Ellaria's words. _You don't look nearly old enough to be called that._

She had nothing further to say to him now, and moved to simply step around him. 

Unfortunately, from the side step he took to get back into her way, Loras was not willing to let her go so easily. 

She pinned him with a look. 

"Are you looking forward to our wedding?" he asked her abruptly, and with zero finesse. 

Cersei only narrowly managed not to cup her face in her hand. Taking a deep breath to fortify herself, she said as diplomatically as was possible for her, "Our fathers are both rather keen on the prospect."

"They certainly are." Loras smiled broadly, completely unaware that he was the only one of the two of them so enamoured with the idea of joining their Houses. 

It seemed that diplomacy wouldn't work. Or, perhaps, Cersei didn't want it to. She'd had more than enough of being biddable for other people. She'd told herself already that she would not be going through with this farce of a marriage a second time. No need to let Loras think of having her a moment longer than he already had. 

"Perhaps we should get married." Her voice came out in a light, sweet tone that would have been a warning sign if Loras had known her at all. He didn't, though, so she would need to spell this out plainly. "If you were to marry me, I would murder you in your sleep. If you somehow managed to put a child in me first, I would murder him, too, long before he drew his first breath. Luckily for you, none of this will happen because you'll never marry me."

Loras looked at her stunned, long before she had finished her final sentence. His mouth was half agape. It didn't matter that Cersei didn't think she could ever bring herself to harm a hair on the head of any child she bore. That was just another thing Loras didn't know about her. And the image of a mother so callously murdering their offspring would be so gruesome that it should be enough to dissuade Loras of any of the nonsense their fathers had put into his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other reference you'll have found in this chapter is from Season 4, Episode 2, _The Lion and the Rose_. I found Cersei far too passive in many of her pre-Mad Queen episodes. It made more sense to me that--bolstered by the emotional support she has from multiple other characters at this point in the fic--she would stand up for herself and advise Loras she would never marry him, rather than to have Jaime do it for her.


	14. "There must be a trial."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"We share too much." Prince Oberyn shrugged. "We have never shared a beautiful blonde woman, however, and Ellaria is curious. Do you know of such a creature?"_
> 
> \- from _A Storm of Swords_

"You said what?!"

This followed a long pause after Cersei had updated her siblings, son and Ned on what had gone on between her and Loras. Ned started shaking his head. Tyrion poured himself another goblet of wine. And Jaime... well Jaime looked as though he was worn out from another day of trying to pretend that he belonged in this castle once again. 

Cersei wished there was some way that she could make him feel more at home in this place. Help him to see that, right now, everything he was doing, it was more than making up for the past he so regretted. 

But he wouldn't even look at her. Even during her recounting, he'd largely eyed the floor beneath his feet. 

Laughter started from somewhere in the room and, with surprise, Cersei realised that it began from Joffrey. The more surprised looks he got from the others in the room, the more that laughter grew. "Oh, come on, Uncles," he said eventually to both Jaime and Tyrion. "Tell me that you both wouldn't have liked to be flies on the wall when she said all of that."

"It's very unfortunate," Cersei said, gazing at the nails on her right hand. "I imagine he won't want anything to do with marrying me now."

"I appreciate you wanting to have control over the situation," Tyrion said, looking away from his nephew, who lingered over a few more chuckles. "But I do wish you'd consulted with us before behaving so rashly." 

"I have many wishes myself," Cersei said archly. "One of them is not to be used as chattel."

"Nobody's treating you like chattel!" Tyrion said. 

"Yes they are!" Cersei argued. "I will not go through again what I went through with--"

All too late, Cersei forced herself to stop speaking. Forced herself not to say her dead husband's name in front of her son or his best friend. 

Ned cleared his throat. It seemed that even her belated attempt not to say it had still left what was unsaid rather obvious. Even Joffrey wasn't laughing anymore. 

"I have three beautiful children already," Cersei said. "My son is king. He's about to be married." This with a look towards Ned, and he inclined his head in return. "The only thing left to want is not to be far away from my family."

It was an incredibly deep truth, and Cersei felt beyond vulnerable speaking it aloud. Yet, for the first time since entering the room, Jaime looked up and met her eye. He wasn't shuttered, or trying to pretend either he or she weren't there. They met each other's eyes and Cersei knew that he saw her vulnerability in that moment. But, more than that, he respected her for admitting to it. 

Cersei let out a trembling breath. Who would have thought that honest vulnerability would have been the first step back to her twin?

She blinked her eyes several times, lest tears somehow find their way down her cheeks. Too much vulnerability could not be a good thing. 

"There is also... something else." Since they'd just skirted so close to the subject of Robert, it seemed like the necessary thing to unfold the letter that had been left in her own room for her to find, shortly before the others arrived. It was unsigned, and said only, 

_Tywin Lannister paid Lancel Lannister to poison Robert Baratheon._

She didn't know whether to believe it. Not because it was difficult to believe, but because it was all too easy. And that meant that, with the combination of an unsigned note, it was the perfect way to fracture House Lannister from within itself without anyone outside accepting responsibility for it. 

The fact that it had arrived on the very day that Oberyn said that he was very interested in Cersei's father for past grievances was not a coincidence to be overlooked. 

And yet, she hadn't been able to tear the note up or throw it away. It wasn't written in a script that she recognised, but that left hundreds of people she'd never seen the handwriting of who could have slipped into her room through the course of the day. Perhaps it had even been Ellaria who left the note, while Oberyn had been distracting her in the hall. 

For some reason, Cersei shied away from that idea. 

"Lancel would have had the opportunity," Cersei said softly, as the note was passed around. She looked with sorrow at Joffrey as his face paled and he dated questioning eyes up towards her. "He was Robert's squire that day."

"If this is true, then Tywin has been planning to take power longer than we've thought," Ned said darkly. 

"If it is true," Cersei agreed softly. 

The silence that followed this time was of an entirely different quantity. The only person in the room that did not look trodden down by it was Jaime. If anything, he looked taller in the light of her room. There was a focused, almost determined look to his eye that she had not seen in many years. It took Cersei's breath away to see it. 

"We must not jump to conclusions," Tyrion cautioned.

"I disagree." Joffrey spoke and Cersei realised that her gaze had been too focused on Jaime when it should have been on Joffrey. "Last week, you all told me I must not think of him as my grandfather. This week, I hear that he may have been responsible for the death of my father. That makes him a traitor to the realm. We cannot let this slide!"

"Your Grace," Ned said, the first one of them to respond even as Joffrey's chest heaved with breath. "It is not that simple. There must be a trial."

"I am the king!"

"There is still the law," Ned continued patiently. "Don't you remember what we were reading in the courtyard with your tutors?"

Cersei looked up to Ned in surprise. First he was handling swords lessons with Joffrey, and now was present with her son's tutors without having spoken to her first? Strictly speaking, she supposed it was not required for him to do so, but Cersei felt hurt at the slight all the same. 

"'The King upholds the law'," Joffrey droned, obviously quoting. He sat back in his chair, plainly upset that there was not more he could do in the face of such injustice. 

Ned turned to look at the rest of them. "We need to get proof, and then we need to organise a trial. This cannot go on for any longer."

It was late by the time Cersei closed the curtains in her bedchamber and readied to blow out the candles. She hadn't wanted anyone to stay with her after the discussion over what to do again Tywin was concluded. It turned out that considering removing her father from court was one thing, but readying to set up a trial against him was completely another. 

When there was a timid sounding knock at her door that interrupted her endless tossing and turning, Cersei was almost glad for the servant who had obviously lingered close enough that she could hear Cersei's unrest and distract her from it. 

"Come in," she called almost carelessly, sitting up against her headboard, but not bothering to remove herself from bed. 

She regretted that instinct a moment later when it became apparent that it was not a serving girl at her door. 

It was Ellaria Sand. 

The dark haired woman wasn't beautiful, not in any conventional sense. Though there was something about her continued to draw Cersei's eye. It wasn't that she had the passion of Cersei or the self possession of Catelyn. She certainly didn't possess the innocence of a girl like Sansa. No, what Ellaria had was sensuality like nothing Cersei had ever seen before. Not in her marriage, not in her witness of other relationships around her. In the token kiss that Oberyn had touched to her hand earlier that day, it had seemed like something private that Cersei hadn't been privy, she realised now. And a lot of that was thanks to the expressions that had moved across this woman's face.

"What are you doing here?" Cersei's voice was soft where it should have been imperious. 

"You invited me to come in," Ellaria said, her accented words curling around Cersei's heart even as her hips swayed from side to side with every step she took towards Cersei's bed. 

Cersei's back grew straighter. She wasn't sure whether to get out of the bed, so as to put them on equal footing. And, if so, which side of the bed would she step out of. The side closest to Ellaria had obvious issues, but the side farthest would make it look like she was running away. 

How had Ellaria gotten past her guards to come in here?

"I didn't mean you!" Cersei snapped, unable to help herself. She felt trapped in her bed. Trapped by her own thoughts of the other woman more than anything else. Nothing in her life thus far had prepared her for facing Ellaria Sand, and she was appalled. 

"Why not me?" Again that twist to the vowel sounds that made them unique to just Ellaria. "This is little more than you think of me as, isn't it? A servant... or a whore?"

"I didn't say that," Cersei said distantly. It was true. She hadn't said the words out loud. Certainly nowhere that Ellaria could have heard them. 

"You don't need to." Ellaria's voice lowered to almost a whisper, matching the volume of Cersei's. "It's written in your gaze. You have a very expressive face, did you know?"

For a moment, Cersei was only grateful that her confusion and--was that excitement?--didn't show on her 'very expressive face'.

It occurred to Cersei that all she had to do was cry out and there would be several men who strode into her rooms to take Ellaria away. She didn't have to tolerate this. This was intolerable. 

And yet, the back of her throat was dry at the very thought of calling out. How could she cause trouble for Ellaria when she had done nothing more than enter her room and speak to her as an equal?

"I... can't say I've ever met a Sand before," she murmured. 

Ellaria was closer now. Standing right at the end of the bed where, at least, she didn't show signs of advancing further. Not yet, anyway. 

"No, but you've met other bastards."

Not as many as Ellaria seemed to think, through concerted effort. However, that actually confirmed Ellaria's suspicions of her opinions towards bastards, just in a different way. 

It wasn't an uncommon way to look upon children born out of wedlock, Cersei told herself with momentary irritation. There was good reason for it. They were a threat to the established order. They couldn't be allowed to hold status of their own. It was why they were marked with specific last names denoting the region they came from. 'Sand' for Dorne. 'Snow' in the North. It was the correct way of things.

And yet, Cersei could make a single one of those words pass through her lips. 

"You've looked down on other bastards," Ellaria continued, her cool words almost as sensuous as her movements had been. It was a sharp contrast, those slow words against Cersei's racing thoughts. 

"I have," Cersei croaked out.

"Will you look down on me now?" Ellaria dared her. "Will you have me complete some demeaning job to appease my betters?"

"No..." Cersei said, without even thinking about it.

Ellaria's smile felt like all the reward that Cersei could have wanted. If the Dornish had possessed magic, Cersei would have almost thought Ellaria had put a spell on her. 

She blinked, trying to gather her thoughts into something that resembled helpful. "But you're Prince Oberyn's paramour."

Ellaria's smile grew just a little bit bigger. "Oh, we don't mind sharing time with others. In fact, Oberyn right now is in a brothel sharing time with his pick of lovely individuals." Ellaria reached her hand to one of the wooden posts on the corner of Cersei's bed. As Cersei watched, Ellaria's hand smoothly began to slide up and down the polished wood. Up and down, up and down again. There was something very direct about the movement in a way that Cersei refused to think about. 

"Stop it." 

Ellaria tilted her head to the side, even as the movement of her hand slowed. "Stop what?"

Cersei stiffened her spine and pulled her bed clothes around her, determined not to be cowed just because she'd been caught off guard. "You come into my room, in the middle of the night, unexpected and uninvited. You will not mock me as well."

"Your Grace," Ellaria said, shaking her head. "The very last thing I want to do is mock you."

"Then what do you want?" Cersei gritted out.

Ellaria just looked back at Cersei. Her hand still gripped the wooden post, though it was done moving for now at least. And she had stopped talking about Oberyn's visit to a brothel. The fact that she could be so crude! 

"I'm not sure yet," Ellaria said after several moments had passed. Cersei had almost believed she wouldn't answer at all. And then Ellaria winked. "But I'll be sure to let you know as soon as I do."


	15. Unarmed and unguarded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue taken from Season 4, Episode 3, _Breaker of Chains_.

"--You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that. I am a man of reason. If I cut your throat today, I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow."

It was Oberyn's voice. Cersei paused as soon as she heard it, still completely confused by her altercation with his paramour the night before. How could she face him now? The image of Ellaria stroking the wood of her bed post in that suggestive way still crossed Cersei's mind whenever she closed her eyes. 

It had taken her far more effort than was usual to pay attention during this morning's Council meeting. 

And now for her to walk in on Oberyn was just... cruel. Did he already know about Ellaria's late night visit to Cersei's bedchamber? Was it something Cersei should pretend not to know? Or was the wiser step to act affronted by it, that such a low born as Ellaria would dare to enter her bedchamber uninvited?

This felt like things she should have already knew. Things she'd known before. But she'd never felt so confused in her emotions before. Having those emotions confused complicated things more than she liked. 

Before Cersei came to a decision either way, she heard another familiar voice. This time, her father's.

"Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors' knowledge."

On the surface, Tywin's answer didn't seem anything connected to the words Oberyn had spoken before him. Why was he talking about war? There was no war, certainly not at King's Landing.

"So you deny involvement in Elia's murder?"

Ah.

"Categorically."

Of course he did. Cersei wouldn't have expected anything else. She could even imagine her father's face as he spoke the word; regardless of whether it was truth or lie. It would be difficult to know, unless anyone had been there for witness. But suspicion had fuelled the rumours all these years. Cersei doubted it was the very first time that Tywin had been asked about it so baldly. Perhaps the first time it had happened more recently. 

Cersei readied herself to interrupt them. Regardless of her confusion to do with Ellaria, it didn't work in with her plans to have Oberyn and Tywin having this confrontation. But if she could separate them, could convince Oberyn to take a walk with her while he was still so incensed by her father, perhaps she would have an easier time of suggesting him around to her side, to the side of her son. Especially if Ellaria could perhaps be counted on to say a word in her favour. 

Cersei didn't know when she had started to even conceive that Ellaria might help their cause either way. 

Again, that mental image of Ellaria at the foot of her bed sprung to her mind. 

“Do you also deny involvement in Robert’s death?” Another voice joined them before Cersei could, and Cersei didn't even hesitate before identifying it. 

Jaime stepped forward before Oberyn could speak again, but he didn’t wait for their father to answer his charge. 

“I have felt wretched for almost a full decade. How do you still walk with your head held high?” His expression was painted full of scorn.

However, that was a common expression belonging to Tywin's face, and it didn't shift now that he was being looked at in the same way by his eldest son. “I beg your pardon!” Tywin just looked affronted, but it was the look on Jaime’s face that stopped Cersei from stepping in. 

There was a look of righteousness on her twin's face, yes, but also of fury. Jaime had spoken the truth of his life for the last decade, but it was the fury that gave him strength to move and act now. 

She didn’t need Tyrion’s hand on her arm, his softly spoken, “Let us see how this plays out,” to keep her in place. She'd all but forgotten he'd left the Council meeting in the same direction that she had gone. 

All three men had raised their voices. It wasn't just Cersei's attention they had gathered. A small group was stopping around them to watch this interaction between father and son, alongside the Dornish prince that had been invited to court by the Lannister's themselves. 

“You _should_ beg for pardon,” Jaime said, without any of the deference that had always been there in his words towards their father. Nor did he seem to care about those watching them, for all that he had avoided crowds with dedication for the past decade. Perhaps it made it easier on him if he pretended they were not there now. “Not that I imagine you will have it granted. You may not have done the deed yourself, but the blood is on your hands all the same.”

“This is preposterous!” Tywin said, shaking his head and refusing Jaime’s words in a way Cersei found quite familiar. It was the way he’d handled her any time she’d dared to say something he didn’t like. He looked over Jaime's shoulder, and what he saw there--the crowd that Cersei had already identified--seemed to irritate him still more. “You’re making a scene. There are wedding preparations to take care of and all you care about is—”

“Justice.” It was Oberyn’s voice that spoke up when it seemed like Jaime couldn’t manage another word. His accented words cut through the cultured tones of both Tywin and Jaime. “Justice is something it seems we both very much care about. It seems you have made too much of a habit out of using other people to do your dirty work. It has been ten years. Finally, we are standing up to you to say, ‘No More’.”

The Kingsguard was already trying to usher people away. They wouldn't dare touch any of the three men talking to one another, but all other courtiers were fair game. Cersei thought she spied both Margaery Tyrell and her grandmother. Yes, there they were. Lady Olenna Tyrell particularly would prove to be difficult to move. Cersei all but muffled a laugh behind her sleeve. It looked like Tywin would have a scene now regardless of whether or not he wanted it. The Kingsguard were far outnumbered, and word of this argument would run through the palace before night fell. 

This couldn’t have worked out better than if she’d brought Oberyn in and planned it with him and Jaime directly. Finally, Cersei felt it was her time to step forward. 

“I think you have to agree that this is bigger than a simple scene.” She spoke softly, baring her teeth in a smile that had no mirth. Or, at least she hoped that was what came across. Inside, she was all but cackling her win over her father. 

Perhaps those standing slightly further away would mistake the expression for something befitting the generosity of a Queen Regent. She held her hands in plain sight, still and over her belly as she’d so often seen Catelyn do. She needed to hear word back from her friend, and soon. She needed to know if she needed to add Robb and Bran’s names to the list of deaths that bloodied her father’s hands. 

"Perhaps you would like to continue this conversation somewhere private?" She felt rather than saw Oberyn's gaze on her, but kept her on steadfast on her father. She needed to appear strong and calm right now. She had a specific part to play, especially in front of so many others. 

Tywin's lips thinned, but eventually he nodded. Although it might not happen often, the old lion apparently could see when he was overwhelmed. Apparently two of his offspring and a foreign delegate were enough to force that issue. 

"I think that would be wise," Tywin said, for all the world as though it was his idea and not Cersei's. 

Cersei would allow him to have that, for now at least. She looked over her shoulder to where she had last seen Tyrion. She was sure that he would want to be there for whatever would happen next. 

However, when she looked to find him, he was no longer there. 

It was Tyrion who managed to facilitate to things for them, both King Joffrey's presence for the more private conversation had with Tywin Lannister, and the proof they needed to take him to trial. Lancel, after all, was still at court, and nobody managed to out drink the Dwarf.

"What poison did you say you used during the hunt with Robert?"

Lancel answered the question honestly, only blanching and stuttering in the moments afterwards when he realised what he'd unwittingly admitted to. Apparently he'd turned sober again rather quickly because of it. 

Tywin rolled his eyes when he saw Tyrion enter the rooms after Joffrey. 

"It's to be all of my children as a firing squad, is it?" he murmured, shaking his head. "I thought that at least some of you would have had cause to be grateful for all I've done for you." This was said specifically to Jaime, who gazed icily back towards him. 

"I think I've more than paid back anything you've done," Jaime said from between gritted teeth. 

Cersei and Tyrion at least knew Jaime was referencing killing the Mad King, even if it was an allusion that went over Oberyn's head. 

"Let's get to the important details, shall we?" Tyrion said, drawing their father's attention back to him. It was something he had often sought to do, although there was a flatness to his tone today that suggested perhaps this was one time when he might have wished not to have Tywin's attention.

His father's gaze swung to him all the same. "Yes, let's do that," Tywin said. "After all, we wouldn't want to be interrupting your drinking and whoring, would we?"

Tyrion smiled with thin lips that were vaguely reminiscent of Tywin's own smiles. "It's funny you should mention my drinking, Father. It is because of it that Lancel has agreed to testify in exchange for his own freedom. There will be a hefty fine for him, of course," Tyrion said, as though that was a mere afterthought. "But it will be enough to convict you."

"For what?" Tywin blustered, his face beginning to turn an unbecoming shade of red. "For looking out for what's best for my children?"

"You can drop the pretences, Father," Cersei said. "There is no one other than us watching."

But Oberyn looked at Tywin curiously, stroking his chin in contemplation. "Perhaps he is not pretending," he mused. "It may be that it is so long since Tywin Lannister has had a genuine moment that he no longer remembers how."

"You dare--!" Tywin roared.

"I dare," Oberyn agreed, leaning forward and nodding without breaking eye contact with Tywin. 

"Enough," Joffrey said, cutting into both of their ires. "I have heard enough. More than enough to think it wise to detain my grandfather. Until a trial."

Tywin stared at all of them, fuming silently, but at least he seemed to have run out of words. For the time being, at least. There was no doubt there would be more bile piling from his lips as soon as he'd had time to take a breath. 

The solitude of the prisons was sure to give him a great deal of time for contemplation. Cersei would have to make sure the guards picked for duty outside of Tywin's cell were handpicked. It would not do to get this far only to have everything unravel now when their father knew exactly what cards they intended to play.


	16. Oathkeeper

They set the date of the trial for one week hence. It would be short enough to keep memory in mind the conversations that had been overheard, while long enough for Cersei to organise the three judges who would stand trial alongside her son. 

Joffrey, of course, demanded to have a say. What surprised Cersei was that… the men he suggested were not unwise. 

“My Hand must be one of the judges,” Joffrey said loftily. Cersei inclined her head. She agreed thus far. “And my uncle Jaime. Although he has been absent, he holds more sway than… Tyrion.”

“True enough,” Cersei agreed, because it was not something that could be argued. “Who would you suggest for the third?”

Joffrey paused here, as if giving the matter some serious thought. “I had thought of you, Mother.”

Cersei sat back, genuinely surprised by this, even though she had thought as much herself. She deserved to be on that judge’s panel against her father just as much as Jaime did. More so! 

“But then I thought, there should be someone who is less biased to our house,” Joffrey finished. 

Cersei opened her mouth, then closed it again. Joffrey stared at her with an intensity that Cersei might have found unsettling had she not looked into that face every day since he had been an infant. 

“Very well,” she said slowly, carefully. “And who do you suggest would be better than me?”

It didn’t work, her attempting to shield her anger from him. He gazed at her another long moment, before deciding to look away perhaps to allow her time to move through her feelings of disappointment. 

But when he gave his answer, it genuinely surprised her. 

“Varys, from the Council.”

“The eunuch?!” Cersei burst out. 

It was not the right thing to say to get Joffrey to speak more. In fact, she thought she saw disapproval for her outburst on his face, as though her response was somehow unsavoury to him. 

Cersei shook her head. She could manage to lower her voice to a reasonable level, but she couldn’t give credence that this was Joffrey’s final decision. “My son—”

“Varys watches everything. He has been responsible for giving good intelligence to everyone on my Council at some point or other. I want him to feel like he is trusted with this action,” Joffrey said, sounding entirely too mature and well seated to his position. “I want him to feel like he never wants to keep anything that he finds out from me.”

Her son’s reasoning left Cersei speechless. She understood. She herself had benefited more than once from Varys’ intel. But he was hardly a member in high standing within the court. He was not a lord, not even a nobleman. Having him be part of the judge’s panel, appointed by the King for such a high profile case, would cause him to be a laughing stock. 

Wouldn’t it?

“Once this trial is over,” Joffrey continued, heedless of Cersei’s misgivings, “We will be able to proceed with the wedding. Mine and Sansa’s wedding will give a clear message that all unpleasantness is over and we are a united family.”

_My Dearest Cersei,_

_Oh how I have missed you, as well as my husband and daughters. But I write to you with good tidings from Winterfell, and am very relieved to be able to do so._

Catelyn’s handwriting was curled but particular, and Cersei didn’t struggle to read any of it. Her fingers touched against the pages, pages that Catelyn had touched before sending the missive up to King’s Landing.

_Robb found out about the men from Casterly Rock from his scouts. It was Theon who convinced the Ironborn to come to aid his foster family. I have had the pleasure of meeting Yara Greyjoy. She is a great deal more palatable than their father, although her experiences are far different than yours or mine own._

It was the first Cersei had heard from Catelyn in over a month, and Cersei could have wept for joy at holding the missive in her hands. She had only that reason to excuse the fact that she didn’t notice someone opening the door to her rooms until they spoke.

“Good news, I hope?” 

Cersei recognised the voice as swiftly as she might have recognised her brothers’. Ellaria Sand stood in the doorway to her rooms. Her hair was as dark as it had appeared in the night, but there were lines around her face that the shadows had hidden the last time Ellaria had come to her here. 

Cersei thought for a moment of dismissing Ellaria. She could even picture the expression of disappointment that would likely turn the corners of those lips down.

“Please, come in.” It was better, Cersei told her, to have Ellaria seen entering her rooms in the plain light of day, rather than to have the same happen of a night. “If this is going to become a habit of yours, we should talk about it.”

Ellaria arched one eyebrow suggestively, and then she removed herself from the doorway, slinking into the room, and towards the chair that Cersei invited her to. 

“I would like it to become a habit,” Ellaria murmured, reaching out to pour the wine for both of them, although Cersei hadn’t asked her to do so. It confused her to see Ellaria do it, especially after she had argued against Cersei’s preconceptions towards bastards in their last interactions. 

But she also couldn’t find a way of suggesting her not to do so. And then the chore was done, and Ellaria’s dark, glinting eyes gazed back at her. 

“I think we could become very good friends,” Ellaria said. 

When Ellaria said friends, Cersei immediately thought of Catelyn. But this… this between the two of them was different to the friendship she and Catelyn had grown between them. Not to mention, the two of them were of equal standing. Regardless of Dornish views, Ellaria was not of the same standing as Cersei. So friendship seemed out of the question, let alone good friends.

And yet, Cersei couldn’t get herself to argue Ellaria’s words. She wanted this olive branch that Ellaria was offering. She wanted her friendship, and… 

Well, and nothing. Friendship was stretch enough. 

“Thank you,” Cersei said, picking up the wine that Ellaria had poured, and leaving the other woman to decipher whether it was a thanks for the wine or the offer of friendship.

If Cersei herself had known, she probably would have informed her. 

"Your visits here," Cersei said, after she had whet her parched seeming mouth. "It is improper for you to come at night to my bedchamber even once. It cannot happen again."

Ellaria inclined her head. "Whatever Your Grace wishes," she murmured agreeably.

Cersei gazed at her from between slightly narrowed eyes, trying and failing to understand the other woman. "What is it that you are after?"

"I just said, did I not?" Ellaria's eyebrows raised as if in surprise. "A friendship, that is all." 

She splayed her hands out in front of her innocently, but Cersei knew well that no one in King's Landing was innocent, not even if they were visitors to the capital. "Something that would give you sway back in Dorne?" she pushed.

Ellaria's eyebrows immediately lowered. "Not at all! Please believe me, I have all the sway I could want in Dorne already." She sounded cheeky, sultry, as she said that, no doubt alluding again to her relationship with Prince Oberyn. The man for whom she had borne four bastard children. Just like Cersei, she didn't seem to show a great deal in the way of wear from those pregnancies. Her ageing was undoubtedly as graceful as any woman might wish. 

"I can't offer you a position of power within King's Landing," Cersei told her flatly. 

Ellaria put her glass of wine back down on the table between them and stared at Cersei. There didn't seem to be anything hidden behind that gaze. "Is it really so difficult for you to believe that someone might wish to be your friend for the sake of friendship alone?" 

"Yes," Cersei said immediately. 

For a moment, Ellaria looked sad. "Very well. Allow me then to tell you I am gladdened by your son, the King's, decision to announce a trial for Tyrion Lannister. It will make it a great deal easier for me to urge Prince Oberyn towards peace with your House, after his sister's killer has been made to atone for his actions."

Cersei nodded slowly, more than a little surprised by this candid information with nothing asked for in exchange. "I am pleased to hear that. More war in this country surely benefits nobody." Again, she thought about Daenerys, and her dragons, that had recently reported to be ruling in Slaver's Bay, having moved on from Astapor. Or that Stannis and his men who had been seen sailing to the Iron Bank. There was only one thing that money was likely to be used for. 

Once again, Cersei lamented the fracture that Tywin Lannister's appearance had forced. Instead of trialling him for murder, they should have been spending attention and money against the threats of these factions. 

It did not matter that Stannis' claim of Lannisters killing King Robert was... true. Perhaps, as well as settling Dornish minds, this trial would serve to remove Stannis as a threat. He must have heard word by now that Tywin was on trial. 

"I could not agree more," Ellaria said softly, bringing Cersei back to the present. "You look preoccupied, Your Grace. Perhaps I might be able to soothe some of what ails you." 

She stood and, before Cersei could register what Ellaria intended to do, the other woman stood behind her, with her fingers in Cersei's shoulders. Cersei started, ready to push Ellaria away, a scream already in the back of her throat, ready to be launched. 

It was a massage. Ellaria's smooth, long fingers dug into knots that seemed to be on both sides of Cersei's neck, and gave her some immediate relief from the weight she had been carrying. Of course, it didn't help that Cersei was poised in her chair to flee. She worked hard on relaxing herself, not quite succeeding. It had been a very long time since anyone had last touched her without her permission. Not only was she unprepared for offers of friendship for the sake of that friendship alone, she was also unused to any semblance of a kind touch without danger. 

It struck Cersei rather sad, that she was always so on guard. But it was also necessary. Wasn't it?

"You are fighting me," Ellaria observed. "I cannot release your neck if you do not trust me."

That was laughable. The idea of trusting someone she had known only for a handful of days? Cersei shook her head, but she didn't express her thoughts out loud. Besides, Ellaria was probably more than aware of them already. There must be some similarity between here and the Dornish court. 

Ellaria hmm-ed under her breath, working as much on Cersei as Cersei could manage to let her. And, after several minutes passed, Cersei really did feel better. She had managed to relax more than she'd thought possible at the start. So much so that, when Ellaria's fingers and hands lifted away from her shoulders, Cersei regretted that it was over. 

And there was something in Ellaria's gaze when she came back to stand before her that told Cersei she knew it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ellaria's attitude towards war with the Lannisters is taken from her position in _A Dance of Dragons_.


	17. The Laws of Gods and Men

It was only after Ellaria left her rooms that Cersei finished reading the rest of the letter that had come from Catelyn. 

_There is some other news that has come to Robb. New that is quite disturbing to me._

_Robb and Jon have been corresponding regularly ever since Jon went into the Night’s Watch. He has just been promoted to Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, which is surprising on its own, but nowhere near as surprising as the next news that Robb announced._

_In Winterfell, we have always been aware of the wildlings, many of whom come down past the wall and attempt to scavenge out some kind of life from the kinder land here. And there have always been folk tales of the monsters beyond the walls._

_However, Robb says that Jon reports having seen one. The ones we call White Walkers. That Jon has seen proof of them beyond the wall. More distressingly, he has advised that they are marching towards Westeros._

_You know that my husband’s bastard and I have had a difficult relationship up till now, but I have no reason to think Jon would lie about this. If they breach the wall—and given how few men we know currently man that wall, it is a distinct possibility—there is no telling what kind of damage will be done across all of Westeros._

_I have written to Ned a similar letter, which I hope he will share with King Joffrey. But it didn’t seem right to leave you all in unawares._

_I intend to stay in Winterfell for another week only, which is more than enough time for you to send a letter in reply to this. It would lighten my heart greatly to hear word from you._

The letter was signed at the bottom in Catelyn’s name. 

Cersei read the letter—particularly the sections with the supposed White Walkers several times—before putting it back down. 

Those were just childhood stories! It couldn’t be possible that there were now _three_ possible threats to Joffrey’s reign. 

That headache that Ellaria had soothed away with her fingers threatened to return. For a moment, Cersei was sad that she had advised Ellaria that she was not to come back to her bedchambers of an evening.

“Kingslayer!”

The word screamed out from multiple individuals as Tywin was escorted with shackles into the Iron Throne room between two of Cersei’s most trusted guards. Cersei doubted anyone else would have noticed the flinch from Jaime as the word got called out. For the moment, no one was paying attention to the throne. 

All eyes were on Tywin Lannister’s entrance. How the mighty had fallen. Cersei considered this would be a good warning to anyone else considering going against their king’s best interests. If the Lannisters would bring the patriarch of the House to trial for his indiscretions, they couldn’t hope any other house would fair better.

Cersei lifted her chin as soon as Tywin entered. She didn’t dare look away from him, even when he wasn’t staring at her. He didn’t seem to be staring back at anyone in particular. Not her or Ned Stark, who sat on one side of Joffrey; nor directly at Jaime or Tyrion who were on the other, with Varys the Eunuch.

Was that a power play, that he looked past them all like that? Cersei didn’t want to imagine that something could go wrong at this late stage in the game. He hadn’t escaped his holdings. He hadn’t managed to start a revolution from within his cell. Surely anyone who would have been sympathetic to him still, after all this, would keep silent in the face of the trial about to start. 

But Cersei couldn’t be sure. And that made her concerned. Wary. Incredibly watchful. 

Joffrey rose to his feet, which had the effect of having everyone on the dais raise, as well as everyone who had come to watch the trial. 

“I, Joffrey of the House Baratheon, First of my Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, accuse Tywin Lannister for the murder of my father, the King, Robert Baratheon of the House Baratheon. Ned Stark of the House Stark, Hand of the King, Protector of the Realm, will also sit as judge. And with him Lord Jaime of the House Lannister and Varys.”

There was a conspicuous space where the house that Varys didn’t come from was left dangling in the air. Cersei couldn’t believe she was the only one aware of it. She imagined her father laughing at the idea that Varys had been the third person picked as a judge at his trial, even though there was no change to her father’s expression. 

Joffrey’s voice was hard. “And if found guilty, may the gods punish the accused.”

That landed heavily. Cersei finally removed her gaze from Tywin to Joffrey. He was young, too young to have to sentence his grandfather for this crime. She should have pushed him to recuse himself. He was too close to the situation. He had only just lost his father, and now he would have to lose his grandfather too. 

But there was nothing of youth on Joffrey’s face now, and Cersei mourned that loss just as deeply. 

Lancel Lannister was called as first witness. For the first time, Tywin’s gaze seemed to fix on someone in the Iron Throne room, and Cersei saw how Lancel cowed to have the full attention of Tywin on him. Still, even if his words were shaky, he recounted the tale as he had given it to Tyrion. He didn’t dare look at Tywin again as he left the stand. 

Prince Oberyn was also called as a witness. Cersei saw Ellaria’s gaze on him as he left his seat to take the stand before the judges and King. He recounted much the same story about Tywin ordering the Mountain to kill his sister as had been spoken during the scene witnessed by so many courtiers—and talked about ever since—one week ago. It had made distant rumour more relevant again. More than that, it established a pattern in Tywin Lannister’s behaviour.

Only after both statements had been made did Joffrey speak again.

“We will adjourn for now,” Joffrey said, without giving any indication of his thoughts, anymore than did his grandfather. “Bring the prisoner back to his cell. We will return for the defence tomorrow afternoon.”

_Dearest Catelyn,_

_I write to you tonight after the beginnings of a very distressing trial: The trial of Tywin Lannister, for which my son and my brother are presiding over._

_It is my belief that having this trial will make things a great deal better for my brother Jaime. He may feel that he has, in part, atoned for the actions of the past in standing trial against the treason my father has seen through his actions._

_As well, I have hope that Dorne may once more come into the fold under the allied Kingdoms for, as you know, it has long since been agreed that my father was the one who gave the order for the Mountain to kill Elia Martell._

_But lastly, it is my hope that Stannis Baratheon will find some peace in the fact of this trial, and its hopeful outcome. That he will lower his arms and will allow my son to rule in peace as the true descendant of his brother Robert._

_This would mean that the only enemy my Joffrey faced would be Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons, which is certainly enemy enough. However, there is wild fire enough in the castle that I believe even that we could stand against should there come a need._

_Perhaps the same would be a solution if Jon Snow’s account proves true, and there are White Walkers in reality, not just in myth._

_The biggest concern I still hold is that Tywin still seems sure, even this far into the trial, that nothing will come to him. I fear as though, at any minute, there will be guards with my father’s name on them coming to arrest me and behead my children. It is a horrifying thought, but I cannot believe that my father will act with any less fierceness should he escape this trial with anything less than death, or banishment to the Wall._

_I hope that by the time you return to King’s Landing that this unpleasantness is all well and truly in the past, and that you and I can celebrate the wedding of Joffrey and Sansa together. Joffrey is becoming quite excited, and I am quite sure Sansa feels much the same._


	18. First of His Name

“Will Tywin Lannister now speak in his defence,” Joffrey spoke the next afternoon.

Cersei held her breath as her father stood up, sure that this was it. This was the moment that everything would come down around them. All their carefully laid plans. 

She should have ordered the Kingsguard to cut out his tongue. Perhaps Jaime would have done it, if she had asked him. If she could have convinced him that the end more than justified the means. 

Cersei had rarely known terror like this in her adult life. Her heart pounded mercilessly in her chest, and she almost wanted to cry. But that was weak. She would not have sat here with her family in judgement of their father if she had not been sure that she could rise above such faint hearted feelings. No part of this deserved her tears _or_ terror. She was angry. Furious. As she had every right to be. 

Tywin spread his hands out before him, manacled as they were, and said, “I maintain that I have killed no one. Not Elia Martell. Not Robert Baratheon. My hand has taken no life that was not ordered by my king, or part of war long past.”

“You have nothing more to say in your defence?” Joffrey asked. 

“That _is_ my defence,” Tywin said confidently. He looked utterly confident that he would not be found guilty. “I can attest that Lancel Lannister is guilty of giving false information.” He looked again to Lancel, who was today in attendance but had nothing further to offer. “Consider this: with me out of the way, and Jaime ineligible to inherit as part of the Kingsguard, Lancel would inherit Casterly Rock.”

Cersei watched as Joffrey glanced to both Ned and Jaime. Ned said something to both men which had Joffrey nodding slowly. 

“According to House Lannister’s line of succession, Tyrion would first need to abdicate his hold on Casterly Rock. And then it would go to Kevan Lannister, not Lancel.”

Tywin offered one of his thin smiles, not seeming to be dissuaded by this in the slightest. “Your Grace, I think we can all agree that it is very unlikely that Tyrion would take possession of Casterly Rock.” 

No more about that was said. No reason given. Cersei snuck a glance towards her younger brother and, for the first time in her life, she felt pity for him. She saw, finally, what it was that Tyrion had been saying about their father up till now. 

_You act as though this behaviour from our father is new. I've been dealing with it for all my life._

“Kevan and Lancel know this. Therefore, it is my claim that both Kevan and Lancel colluded to take the inheritance through subterfuge and false testimony. I am deeply apologetic that, in your youth and inexperience, you have gotten caught up in this.”

There was an outcry at this. It took everything Cersei had in her to keep her back as straight as it would go. Not to slump her shoulders at her father’s words. Not to clutch her face in her hand. 

Tywin, it seemed, truly had no consideration of family. He would run all of their names through the mud just to assure that he got what he wanted in the end. 

It took some time before the Kingsguard managed to quiet everyone in attendance. By then, a staring contest was in place between King Joffrey and his grandfather. 

But Joffrey shook his head, lifting a hand up to pause Ned Stark when he would have spoken to Joffrey again. “That does not explain Prince Oberyn’s testimony against you. A separate instance of your orders being given to see someone killed.”

“Your Grace,” Tywin said, again in that gratingly placating voice. “There are no shortage of people who can attest to Ser Gregor’s violent nature. It has been well known to be the case these past ten years. I gave explicit orders, before that time, for Gregor to _protect_ Elia and her children. What he did next cannot be laid at my feet.”

Cersei dared a glance to where she had noted that Oberyn and Ellaria were sitting when they first came in. Oberyn looked mutinous. There was no hiding that expression on his face. Ellaria, beside him, hand a hand on his arm as though she would settle him, but it was clearly not working. 

Joffrey looked to Ned, to Jaime, to Varys, the three judges that he had chosen. Cersei, too, looked, to see if she could get a gauge on what they were thinking. 

Ned appeared concerned, though that was a common expression on his face. He would want to do the fair and just thing, regardless of what it meant for anyone else.. Jaime, although not as livid as Oberyn’s visage, did appear angry, which was good. 

But Varys… he just looked contemplative, hands both hidden within his sleeves, as though none of this bothered him at all.. 

Cersei gazed away again, wishing with all that she had in her that she had pushed harder against Joffrey picking Varys as the third judge. Because if Jaime was the only one of them who stood fast that Tywin was guilty of these crimes, there would be nothing Cersei could do to convince either Ned or Varys to change their minds. Not with Catelyn still in Winterfell until all of this played out. 

Joffrey wouldn’t go against the decision of two of his judges. 

But… Cersei realised, there was still Sansa. Sansa who might have the power to bend her father’s ear towards reason where Catelyn was not available to. Better, even, for she might also be able to turn Joffrey’s opinion.

“We will adjourn for our deliberations,” Joffrey said, both loudly and clear. “A judgement will be made tomorrow.”

Instead of joining the men in their deliberations, Cersei’s gaze zeroed in on Sansa, and she pursued her with single minded determination. That determination was only once almost sidelined, when Ellaria caught her eye. 

Cersei’s step hesitated a moment. But, no. It was more important for her to speak to Sansa first. There was nothing that she could say to the Prince of Dorne and his paramour now that would carry more weight. Dorne had no power here. It was too late in their game to bring Oberyn any further in than the testimony he had already given. Tomorrow would suffice. It would have to.

Sansa looked startled when Cersei put even a light hand on Sansa's shoulder. Cersei experienced a short moment where she felt saddened that already, after this little time in King's Landing, Sansa was already exhibiting the wariness of being touched that Cersei had noticed herself two days before. 

"Little bird," Cersei said fondly. "These must be stressful times with you, and you without your mother here at court, and your father so busy with state matters right now. Let us adjourn with some tea and cakes, just us girls."

Sansa still looked up towards Cersei with a shadow of doubt, but it seemed that she remembered that Cersei was Joffrey's mother, and her own mother's good friend, for the expression moved itself from her features, and she even offered Cersei a small smile. 

"That would be nice," she said politely. 

Cersei stopped a runner to fetch a serving girl for the tea and cakes they would have, then led the way back to her chambers. Sansa walked half a step behind her in deference, which Cersei hadn't asked for, but certainly appreciated. 

Once they reached her rooms, Cersei indicated that Sansa enter the room before her. 

"No one but the servant bringing our refreshments is to disturb us," she told the Kingsguard at the door, before allowing him to shut it behind her. 

Sansa stood in the expansive rooms, seeming small in the middle of it. Small and uncertain. 

"Well," Cersei told her, taking long strides to come stand next to her swiftly. "You will have to stand taller than that if you are to become Queen one day."

"Your Grace?" Sansa looked up again at Cersei uncertainly. 

Cersei tried a different tack. "Do you know why I call you 'Little bird'?" she asked. 

Sansa just shook her head as no. 

And so Cersei told her. "I call you 'Little bird, because that is what you remind me of. Shy and uncertain, in the big, brash court. But it simply will not do. We cannot make Joffrey look weak, can we?" 

Sansa shook her head swiftly at this. "No, Your Grace."

"Indeed we cannot." Cersei gestured Sansa to sit, and joined her. "Once you marry Joffrey, there will be few who are at your elevated station. Such a station requires respect. But I will tell you now: There are many men at court, and all of them find it difficult to respect a woman, especially when she is making every appearance of being a little bird."

"I... I... Your Grace, I merely thought it best for me to be deferential--" Sansa started. 

"I'm sure that's exactly what you thought," Cersei said, gentling her tone so she didn't completely scare Catelyn's child away. "But you are no longer new to this court. And the time draws near when you will be married. I know Catelyn brought you up to be strong. Didn't she?"

"I... Yes, Your Grace," Sansa replied, sounding slightly steadier by the time she spoke Cersei's title again. 

"I hardly see how it could be otherwise, in the wild of the North where you grew up," Cersei murmured. 

"Your Grace, the court at King's Landing is a very different kind of wild," Sansa brought up tentatively. 

"Of course it is," Cersei said crisply. She leaned forward to put a hand on Sansa's lap near the knee, and added, "You will become just as adept at navigating this wild as you did at home. For this is your home now. Do you understand?"

Sansa looked at the hand Cersei had laid near her knee for a moment before looking up at her again, even meeting her in the eye and maintaining that contact. "One should not be skittish around one's own home." 

She sounded almost certain. Cersei was very proud. "Exactly so, my dear."

Sansa's face lit up at Cersei's praise, which advised Cersei that the girl was ready for the next step in this conversation. 

"Now, Joffrey too needs to know that you are to be respected," Cersei said. "That you've a mind of your own. He is in the middle of very important deliberations with the judges he selected. It will be a heavy weight on his mind. As his wife to be, it is your responsibility to help him carry that weight."

Sansa sat very straight, attending to every single word out of Cersei's mouth, and nodding at every point made. 

"My son, _your_ husband to be, will not be safe if Tywin is allowed to be free," Cersei concluded. 

Sansa's brow furrowed, the first signs that she was not one hundred percent in line with Cersei's words. "But, I mean, You Grace, Ser Tywin Lannister is your father. And Joffrey's grandfather."

"And a murderer too many times over," Cersei said, not softening her words. Sansa had to understand the importance of what she must do. "We know that he has murdered a king, Joffrey's father, already. What is to stop him murdering Joffrey for daring to put him on trial?"

Cersei pinned Sansa with her gaze, not allowing the young girl to shy away even for a moment. 

Sansa took several steadying breaths. Cersei saw this in the way her bodice shifted up with her chest each time, before she finally spoke. "Okay," Sansa said softly. "What should I say to him?"


	19. "I will hurt you for this. Your joy will turn to ashes."

Cersei spent the first part of the evening schooling Sansa in what she should say to Joffrey, making sure at the same time to not take too long in the doing, for it would not be appropriate for Sansa to speak to Joffrey too late in the evening. She'd already set a servant to advise of when Joffrey was finished with his meeting with his judges. Tywin was under guard, and Cersei had handpicked those guards herself. After his defence today, Cersei was taking no chances on anyone who might come to liberate the 'falsely accused'. 

And now, as Sansa went to find her father and Joffrey and request to speak with them privately, Cersei was in a holding pattern on her own. She could not control this part of the game. There was nothing more for her to do than hope that she had set everything in motion as well as she could. 

There was a knock at her door; a servant bringing the wine she had ordered. Perhaps it would settle the trembling that she wished was not in her hands. 

"Come in," she said, still looking out the large window of her chambers. 

She didn't turn to greet the servant. She needed to come across as disinterested, because she did not think she could face someone and keep her face clear of all the emotion she felt. 

"Your Grace." The soft words were the first thing that alerted her to the fact that this was not a servant, and had Cersei spinning around to meet Ellaria. Again. 

She stood immediately. "Lady Sand," she said, rushing towards the dark skinned woman. "You must stop taking on the jobs of the servants in the palace. Think how it will look!" Nevermind that, for some reason, Cersei couldn't stand the look of Ellaria taking on the jobs of mere drudges. 

It had been a full week since once of these visits in her rooms. Cersei had been busy for so much of that, focusing on her own family, and the Starks. She'd thought many times of how much she'd missed Catelyn's calming presence. She had grown used to that presence in a longer time. 

But seeing Ellaria standing in front of her now--bare handed now that Cersei had taken the tray with wine and goblets from her, and set it on the table--Cersei realised that she had missed this woman, too. 

There was a peculiar smile on Ellaria's features as she gazed into Cersei's eyes. " _Lady_ Sand," was all she mused. 

Cersei frowned. "That is what you are called in Dorne, are you not?"

Ellaria inclined her head. "It is, Your Grace. But I had not expected to hear it from your lips." Ellaria's gaze dipped down to Cersei's mouth as she said the word. 

Cersei was very well aware of the rumours surrounding her personality. She was in turns frigid and hot headed. But, most of all, she liked things to be proper. It was difficult to express emotions as a woman in power, and just as difficult not to. People wished to have an opinion on all things she did. But her like of things proper? That, at least, was true. 

Ellaria had heard of Cersei and known that she would likely have difficulty with the fact that she was bastard born. 

And Cersei had done. She remembered it clearly. 

What she could not remember so clearly was when that had changed. 

She shook her head. "Doing servant tasks is certainly not elevating you to that position," she said shortly, sitting down by the tray in part because it allowed her an easy way of breaking eye contact without appearing to back down. Especially when she then extended her hand to indicate Ellaria should sit across from her. 

Ellaria did exactly that, still with the confusing smirk upon her lips. 

"And I seem to recall citing it was improper for you to come at night to my bedchamber," Cersei continued with a lift to her eyebrow. 

"How should I refrain when it is still the best way to ensure I get to speak with you privately?" Ellaria asked. She dipped her gaze coquettishly. "And it is still early yet."

That had been Cersei's argument to Sansa when she had pushed her to speak to Joffrey tonight, with some urgency. She could hardly protest it now. 

"Quite so," she said instead, lifting the wine and pouring it into the two goblets before lifting hers to her lips and taking a well needed draught. "It has been... rather a busy time."

"And very stressful, I would wager," Ellaria agrees, all too quickly. "Do not worry, Your Grace. I haven't taken your absence as a slight."

Cersei darted a glance in Ellaria's direction, then tried to guess from the expression on Ellaria's face whether there was any hidden meaning in the words. Ellaria looked... playful, though. There appeared to be no guise on her features. Cersei wanted to feel her shoulders relax from the near constant guard she had been on since the beginning of the trial. But wanting to believe there was no guise in Ellaria proved a lot more easy than actually getting her body to believe the same. 

She took another deep drink. There was only one way she knew to force relaxation, although it was something she usually only indulged in with her own company alone. 

Strangely, she thought of her younger brother, almost wishing for Tyrion's company while they drank. There was no doubt at all that he would likely be doing the same as her as soon as he put his pieces into place. How far indeed things had changed. 

Cersei sighed into her goblet. Finding it nearly empty already, she downed the last of the wine and then closed her eyes. 

There was silence between them for a long moment. Not an uncomfortable sort, however. She didn't feel Ellaria's eyes upon her unfavourably. More like, with Ellaria's presence in the room with her, she felt like she could close her eyes. As though she needn't be so watchful of everything in this moment. 

Perhaps the sudden infusion of wine into her body also had something to do with that. 

"I'm so tired," she said eventually. 

In her mind's eye, Cersei thought again of the massage Ellaria had given to her the last time she'd been in this room. She thought she would have welcomed it, but that was not what Ellaria did this time. She didn't get up. She didn't say anything. When Cersei set her empty goblet on the table once more, Ellaria refilled it for her, as she did for her own. 

And then she sat back and sipped that drink, doing nothing but bearing witness for the Queen of Westeros, and holding that space. 

Cersei opened her eyes grudgingly as the sun coming in from her window could no longer be ignored. Her head was not sore, she remembered, only because Ellaria had ensured she had proper amounts of water into her system before she had bade her own goodnight and retired. 

It wasn't pain that made Cersei not want to rise. It was the not knowing what verdict would be reached when everyone assembled for the end of Tywin's trial. 

Was it too late for her to seek out her son and find out what was in his head? Was it too late for her to change his mind if he had, with his judges, decided that there was not enough evidence against his grandfather? 

Once again, her head was filled with the thought that Tywin could not be allowed to go free at the same time as having little in her power that could be done. How had anyone thought it was a good idea to allow a king to preside who had barely even been alive when the events being tried had taken place? 

Cersei wished for more wine, at the same time as knowing that it was unwise to the extreme to go into the events of the morning with a foggy head. 

She called for a maid to dress her for the day and imagined every item of clothing on her body as a kind of battle garment, before striding early into the throne room. There was not a single part of this that she wished to miss. 

Cersei was intercepted by Tyrion, who was walking as fast as his small legs could take him without a trot, clearly coming to find her. "Ah good, you stayed late abed. King Joffrey has summoned us to his council room."

The words tripped her heart into a gallop. "Well," she said, as mildly as she could force herself. "We shan't keep him waiting."

She and Tyrion were the last ones to arrive to Joffrey's summons. As soon as Cersei stepped inside, she caught sight of Sansa's bright red hair and saw the girl was standing right at Joffrey's side. Sansa met her eye and gave an ever so slight nod. 

For the first time, a spark of hope shot through Cersei's chest, before she pinned her gaze to Joffrey. 

"I have spoken at great length with my judges," Joffrey said, once the door had been closed behind Tyrion. He glanced towards Sansa briefly. "And my soon to be wife. And it was at her wise counsel that I also speak to Kevan and Lancel Lannister as cousins. I wish there to be no ill will within the family because of this trial. If Kevan and Lancel were willing to abdicate any claims to Casterly Rock, it would invalidate Tywin's claims of collusion."

This had been Cersei's advice to Sansa, knowing that the girl--who likely had as much faith in family ties as did her mother Catelyn--would be able to present this to Joffrey with a sincerity that Joffrey might be swayed by. Clearly none of the judges had voiced objections to this. 

Cersei took a moment to gaze at Varys who, she found, was gazing straight back at her with that same contemplation she'd seen in his face the day before. Wondering whether the idea had indeed originated from Sansa, or whether it had beginnings elsewhere. There was no downside to finding that Cersei had put the idea into Sansa's head, not that he would be able to prove it. The most that was likely was that he could suggest Cersei and Sansa had come up with the idea together. While that would clearly bond the Lannister and Stark families closer together, Kevan and Lancel's actions were still their own. 

Cersei had also made suggestions of what offers Joffrey might make to his cousins as alternatives to Casterly Rock, which was what they were likely to hear next. 

"They were willing," Joffrey concluded. "Witnessed by all three judges, this was seen as sufficient without any official abdication being processed."

This made Cersei look towards Jaime. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was gazing at his nephew impassively. Still, this change absolutely reeked of Jaime. Neither Ned nor Varys would have had the impetus to argue it on their behalves. 

Unless Joffrey had... 

It wasn't important, Cersei thought to herself. It didn't matter that the arrangement had gone slightly differently to the way that she had planned. The important thing was that Tywin would not manage to escape this trial. 

"As a result, the verdict will be announced today that Tywin Lannister will henceforth be banished--"

"Banished!" The word came out of Cersei's mouth without her conscious forethought. But she couldn't... No, this couldn't be the way it would end. "But you just said that Tywin's claims were invalidated."

"His counterclaims are invalidated, Your Grace," Varys answered, instead of Joffrey. "But Tywin is also correct that these murders were not committed by his hand. We will, of course, give him the option of a trial by combat to clear his name completely, but it is believed that of the choices, he will choose banishment."

"Which will allow him to later come back stronger," Cersei hissed out. "Just like the Targaryen girl. Would you have it be two threats at our doors instead of the one we already have?"

"Cersei..." Ned started, taking half a step towards her, but she would not have it. 

"And what if he does choose trial by combat?" she demanded. None of this was coming out the way she had thought. 

This, Cersei realised, was the reason why Joffrey had summoned them all into his council rooms. So any dissent could be aired privately. Publicly, they could still come across as united. 

"Then the gods will decide, and punish the guilty," Varys said quietly, as though completely unmoved by Cersei's heat. Probably, he was unmoved. Perhaps eunuchs were stripped of their emotions at the same time they were stripped of their balls. 

"Joffrey, you must listen to me," Cersei said, finally attempting to reason with him herself. To succeed where Sansa had failed.

"This is the way it has always been done," Joffrey told her. "If he accepts banishment, we can only then assume that he did not trust his actions would be redeemed by the gods."

"You are the _king_ ," Cersei hissed. 

"And he is a fair king indeed," Varys answered sagely, as though she was only making his point for him. 

More than anything in that moment, Cersei wished for a trial by combat against Varys himself. She would have his head! She had known, ever since the afternoon before, that Varys would be their undoing. 

Cersei took a deep breath, then another one. Slowly, she looked over at the other two judges. At Jaime, who still had his arms crossed. Did he remain quiet because he had already heard the ruling and knew there would be no changing of their minds? At Ned, from whom there seemed sadness in his eyes, though Cersei did not know him well enough to judge why. 

She blinked, and looked away from him. Fine. The decision was already made. It was Tywin's move, then. Either banishment, or a trial by combat if that was refused. That was his choice. 

After that, it would be Cersei's turn again.


	20. The Mountain and The Viper

"The testimony is concluded. A guilty verdict has been rendered." Joffrey spoke the words to reach every point in the throne room. Most everyone there assembled seemed to hold their breath. Cersei gazed only at her father. Watching him for every tick, every nuance, awaiting his voice so that she could read every breath in his tone of voice. "Your sentence will be banishment from King's Landing, and to be sent to the Wall. You are now given a chance to speak."

The seconds ticked by. Now it was not only Cersei's gaze on Tywin, but everyone's. 

He seemed... completely unfazed. He gazed back at Joffrey as though he knew or believed, at any second, that Joffrey would change his mind. 

But Joffrey's eyes were hard when they viewed his grandfather. For the first time, Cersei wondered whether this sentence had been more leniency than Joffrey had been of a mind to take himself. She had watched him grow up since his father had died, but a part of her remembered the incident between Joffrey and Arya. The tantrum he had thrown. The determination to take blood for such a slight as he had perceived then. 

Cersei had thought that, perhaps, Joffrey had not been incensed enough by the charges laid towards Tywin because at least some of them seemed too distant to him. 

However, Cersei saw a fire, a fervour, in Joffrey's eyes now, and wondered whether he had been smart enough to hide that until right at this moment. He had never said anything about wanting justice for Robert's murder. From the way that he had attached himself to Ned, Cersei had assumed he had transferred his affections from one figure to the other. Made the mature decision and stepped up to be the king she had always hoped he would be. 

Although Joffrey had said the right words in the even tone becoming of one in his station, the expression Cersei now saw burning behind Joffrey's eyes was a different matter all together. 

The longer Tywin's silence stretched on, the worse that fire grew, until even Ned stepped forward and put a light hand onto the upper arm of his king. 

Joffrey shook that hand away, not even breaking eye contact with Tywin to do so. "I _said_ , you are now given a chance to speak," he said, his voice low and menacing.

"You wish to be seen as a just king," Tywin said, finally. It was not an answer to the trial they were undergoing, but it was Tywin taking up his chance to speak. 

The whole of Cersei's body tensed up. Of course Tywin had the right to speak on whatever topic he wished to. But her father's tongue was as dangerous as the rest of him. The further away his topic strayed from that of this specific trial, the more likely it was that he was about to say something that would either impugn one of them, or help Tywin. Knowing Tywin as she did, it would likely be both at once. 

"I believe your king's justice is being shown in the fact that he allows you to say final words _on this trial_ ," Cersei said, hearing the steel in her own voice and all but demanding that her father take up any gripes with her directly. Not with her son. He would never look at Joffrey again if Cersei had her way. 

But Tywin was no more willing to break this staring contest that he and Joffrey had started than it seemed her son was. He continued as though Cersei hadn't even spoken. "A good king must be just. Orys I was just. Everyone applauded his reforms. Nobles and commoners alike. But he wasn't just for long." Here Tywin paused. Cersei watched as Joffrey lifted his chin, but the young king was willing to hear out whatever his grandfather had to say. And so Tywin continued to talk. "He was murdered in his sleep after less than a year by his own brother. Is that the steps you wish to follow in, Your Grace?"

"Your Grace, this is not appropriate for a trial. _His_ trial," Cersei said, determined to lead Joffrey back to the point. At this point, she would take Tywin's banishment. Just so long as he would stop talking. Tywin's words sounded far too much like a threat, and Cersei knew she wasn't mistaken. 

Finally, Joffrey looked at her. It was only a second, but he looked away from Tywin. He looked towards Ned, who was still right behind his shoulder. It seemed enough to bring Joffrey back to himself. "I believe my mother is right," Joffrey said, but his words were not near so balanced as they had been earlier. His teeth gritted, and there was far too much volume in his voice. He shouted the words. "Are there any words _on this trial_ you wish to speak?"

Tywin tipped his head to the side, as though contemplating that question. When he spoke again, however, it was for another segue. "You wish to show me your strength now. I can believe we all see it. King Robert was strong. He won the rebellion and crushed the Targaryen dynasty. And he attended three small council meetings in 17 years. Your immediate predecessor and the one you're much more likely to follow in the footsteps of. He spent his time whoring and hunting and drinking--"

 _"You will not speak about my father!"_ Joffrey roared the words as he took several steps towards Tywin, his arm already raised, before Jaime stepped forward this time to bodily stop him. 

Cersei closed her eyes. Jaime may have stopped him before the impact was struck, but the damage was already done. A collective gasp took over the throne room, taking on volume simply because of how many people attending did it at the same time. Opening her eyes, Cersei saw the exact moment when Joffrey realised what the rest of his court had seen: a king losing his own self control. Her gaze flicked to Varys, who had a frown on his face. The frown was not directed to Tywin. 

"He started it!" Joffrey cried, speaking first to those in the court room, and then spinning to face his uncle Jaime. Unfortunately, this was an argument best heard within a nursery. Predictably, it did not hold much sway in this room. Cersei saw it when people started shaking their heads. 

Tywin had succeeded in undermining Joffrey, goading him until he did the damage himself. For what was Tywin currently but a shackled man who had almost been struck by the king, his grandson, when he could not defend himself?

Joffrey was heavily breathing when he came to face Tywin again. "You will be banished from King's Landing. You will be sent to the Wall, where you will live out the rest of your life, however short that is." Spittle shot out of Joffrey's mouth along with the pronouncement. 

"I think not," Tywin said sharply. "It seems I was wrong in my assessment of my king. I will get no justice here. I demand a trial by combat."

Cersei felt like the corridors she walked through weren't quite real. She had been prepared for Tywin to demand the trial by combat. She thought she had been, anyway. She had been willing to accept either that or banishment. She hadn't liked that those were the only options that had been decided on by the time she came into the council, but she had come to acceptance.

She hadn't been prepared for Tywin to completely undo his grandson in the throne room like that. With no more than a handful of words, Tywin had had Joffrey all but slavering in front of the entire court in King's Landing. This was infinitely worse than the spat he'd had with Arya. That had been behind closed doors. Cersei knew how hard the people could be on a monarch who chose to show emotion in front of their subjects. But she had remained rational for the entire of the 17 years of her reign. At least on the outside, where people could see her. 

The same could not now be said of Joffrey. 

There wasn't anything Tywin could do immediately with that, of course. He would have his trial by combat while Joffrey remained King of Westeros. Even if Tywin’s champion died there, however, the memory of today in the throne room would be long. It would be brought out again the next time Joffrey presided over a trial. It would be brought out whenever he drank and his voice grew louder. It would be brought up the next time someone in the court did something to displease him. 

The damage Tywin had publicly done to Joffrey would be far reaching, and Cersei needed to find a way to mitigate that. Fast. 

She'd heard that Tywin had already announced Ser Gregor Clegane to be his champion in the trial by combat. It would apparently be foolish for him not to choose the Mountain, given their history of working together and that Tywin had already made note of his wellknown violent nature.

"Your Grace." 

Cersei blinked, only to see that Oberyn was standing right in front of her. She had seen his paramour multiple times since their arrival in King's Landing, but this was only the second time he had sought her out. Obviously, she had done no seeking out of her own. All of this left her surprised, and more than a little bit suspicious, as to why he would be standing in front of her now. 

"Prince Oberyn," Cersei said. She paused, unsure whether to simply walk around him, back into her own thoughts--which she was not actually eager to return to--or whether to stand around and wait for him to tell her whatever he'd come to say. 

Hopefully, he had no complaint to raise owing to Ellaria's continued visits. Cersei could not control his paramour, a fact that she would be quite certain to mention to him as soon as it became relevant. 

But it was not of Ellaria that he came to speak. This was a fact that became abundantly clear a moment later when Ellaria glided up from behind him to join them, putting a hand on his shoulder even as she gazed directly into Cersei's eyes. 

A woman could get lost in that dark, alluring gaze. 

Cersei snapped her attention back to Oberyn. Even if she hadn't been all that interested in speaking with him a moment before, her attention was far better on him now than falling into Ellaria right in front of Oberyn. 

"Can I help you?" she asked him, raising one perfectly sculptured eyebrow that was designed to get men to come to the point rather than standing around wasting her time. 

"I very much hope so," Oberyn said, taking a step closer to her and holding his hands before him as though he were a penitent. It was strange enough to see a prince standing before her in such a way that she clear forgot about Ellaria in that moment. "I hear that the Mountain is going to be Tywin Lannister's champion."

There were no such things as secrets in King's Landing. 

"That is correct," Cersei said carefully, glancing back to Ellaria for a moment, as though she could shine some light for her on what Oberyn was about to say. 

But Ellaria gave nothing away in that enigmatic gaze. Had she been looking at Cersei the whole time, just waiting for her to return her look?

"I want to bring those who have wronged me to justice. I want to be your champion." Here he faltered, if only slightly. "King Joffrey's champion. The champion of the people."

Cersei lifted her chin. To look at Oberyn, he was a slight man, not as tall as Ser Gregor, nor so wide. _Could_ such a man hope to overcome the Mountain? 

She had almost thought to summon Gregor's brother Sandor to be the champion of the realm. Perhaps the only other man who could hope to take on the Mountain was another Clegane. But then, no one knew where Sandor was. There were rumours, but none so reliable that she could hope to summon Sandor in a timely manner. 

Perhaps the best person to overcome Gregor Clegane was someone who had been so badly wronged by him. The kind of passion that could lend would likely stand to overcome many of the deficits to Oberyn's person. 

"I will have to bring it to the king," Cersei said, not wanting to overcommit on behalf of her son. The last thing he needed in the wake of the throne room incident was to have 'easily led' added to his list of downsides. 

"I would expect nothing less," answered Oberyn. 

Cersei inclined her head. After another glance at Ellaria, she considered the wisdom of saying something more to the both of them. But when nothing immediately presented itself, she made the decision to stay silent. There were more serious matters to delicately be handled than the feelings she was forming for one Ellaria Sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's what's interesting to me. I hadn't actually considered this part in advance, but as soon as the Mountain stood is as champion for Tywin, it still made perfect sense to have Oberyn stand to fight against him, for the sake of _fighting against him_. 
> 
> Even if they have picked different sides to fight on, the event still occurs here.


End file.
